Title: Dangerous Games
Disclaimer: don't own nothin' but the plot.
Warning: I quit with the warning thing. I generally don't do it. Pretty much the reason why I rated this fic M is for later chapters, for…sexual scenes. Whoo!
Author's Note: Oh, thanks for the reviews you guys !
sayneverdie: ha wow, I appreciate that, thank you very much
Gulistanklik: yeah, I've never been one to like angst that much. I mean, especially for now while I'm still introducing stuff, it'll be a little depressing. But I hope it meets your expectations.
Just so you know, I like to make Death Eaters kind of OOC behind closed doors. In a deranged, humorous sort of way (if I ever start back up with One Last Thing again, you'll see what I mean, since they immediately take Hermione under their wing in that one…but anyway, I digress). I don't want to take it too far, but you'll see at some point in the story. I just wanted to tell you now so when Bellatrix starts calling Draco snugglemuffin or something you aren't like "wait, what?" Know that's just how I like to roll.
Incidentally, she isn't going to call Draco snugglemuffin, it was just an example.
Chapter Two
The cell she was in was not big; Hermione stood tall for a girl her age at five feet, seven inches, but she could barely stretch her body out with her arms over her head. The floor was cold and made of dirt, the walls colder and made of stone, with no windows. A black chamber pot was in the corner, which magically emptied itself whenever she used it. Across the hall was another cell identical to hers, except that at the top it had a small window. She couldn't see out of it, but it helped her judge with the time when light came through and shifted directions. She had gathered that she had been here almost three days, that when she stood facing out of her cell she was facing east, and it had been almost seven hours since Draco had last come down and given her food.
He now only came down when she was sleeping, which she figured was a way to get out of being further questioned, although she did not know how he always knew when she was sleeping. Despite her hunger, she did not want to nap, because for the past few days that was basically all she had been doing. Not to mention she had finally both regained her strength and gotten sick of revisiting the last few moments before she was stunned in her dreams. Also, at some point during one of her deeper slumbers, her cloak had been taken, and she did not want to risk any more of her clothing. It was cold enough already, being November, and now all she had to keep her warm was a pair of jeans, some wooly socks (her shoes had been taken as well), and an old turtleneck.
She curled up with her knees pulled under her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs, and began reasoning with herself.
I am probably going to die. Harry likes to play the hero, but Lupin and Mrs. Weasley and everyone else has enough sense to convince him not to this time. One person isn't worth the lives of many, especially not his life. The only person who can get me out of this is me, and I really don't see that happening. So I have to accept it. And promise myself not to break. No matter what happens, if I get tortured, or they starve me, or beat me, whatever, I can NOT give them information. My refusal to surrender will be my last act for the cause.
"It's time."
Hermione whipped her head up. Malfoy was standing in front of her cell, holding the door open, and looking off down the hall.
"Time for what?"
"Come with me."
She stood up shakily and shook back her hair. She stepped out and without looking at her, Malfoy motioned toward the staircase.
"Aren't you going to tie my wrists or something?" she asked rather moronically. Why do I keep asking the stupidest questions?
"No," he said simply, and began his way down the hallway. She followed obediently.
He led her up the staircase, which was shorter than she had imagined. It opened out into a long, dark passage, with about five doors on each side. Malfoy walked at a brisk, determined pace, although his face showed no emotion at all. He was wearing all black; black pants, black shoes, a black button down shirt, and a black hooded cloak. Hermione had the sneaking suspicion that wherever they were going, there would be more people dressed like him.
Most of the doors were closed, but as they made their way down the hall, Hermione caught a glimpse of a tall, beautiful room that almost took her breath away. It was a library, about three stories high, with shelves on every wall filled to the top with books. A richly colored, intricately decorated carpet was placed over the hardwood flooring, and large black and green-leathered chairs surrounded a huge fireplace on one side of the room.
"Where are we?" she asked quietly, almost to herself, and jumped when Malfoy answered.
"Malfoy Manor," he said unfeelingly.
"Your house?"
He said nothing and continued walking.
As they reached the end of the hall, Malfoy pulled out his wand and whispered an incantation that, by the sounds of it, unlocked the door in front of them. Before it opened, Hermione saw that two emerald-encrusted serpents were intertwined on the front, their tongues lashing out. Malfoy stepped inside and was almost immediately engulfed by darkness. Hermione peered in uncertainly, and in a brief moment of insanity she considered making a run for it.
"Come in," a cold voice ordered.
She took a deep breath, and willed herself not to show any sign of weakness.
She stepped in bravely, her eyes moving around swiftly to take everything in. The room was longer than the library, but only half as tall. She could sense rather than see about ten cloaked figures standing toward the other end of the room, where Voldemort sat in a large, throne-like chair that had a small circle of light surrounding it. The snake Nagini was curled up at his feet, and the only cloaked figure she could actually see stood at his left side, head bowed. Despite her thumping heart, she walked up with her head held high, her brown eyes staring into his red ones determinedly. She stopped about five feet from him. A woman hissed from the darkness.
"You should be on your knees, you filthy, insolent little mudblood."
The cackles of the other Death Eaters echoed around the room.
"Now, now, Bellatrix, our little friend has been kept alive because she can be useful, and I won't have you insulting her into silence." He turned his ugly, white head toward her. "Your Professor informs me that you are always quite eager to answer any question an authority figure asks of you. Ms. Granger, I would be much obliged if you would inform me of the whereabouts of one of your little friends. I'm sure you know the one I'm talking about, because it can't be the other one, since he is dead."
There was more laughter, and Hermione's entire body stiffened. She sneered up at Voldemort, and said nothing. He shook his head tauntingly.
"I admire your courage, mudblood, as you Gryffindors like to call it, but I'm afraid I don't have time for your silly games. Perhaps a bit of persuasion might make you more willing to talk. Severus, would you do the honors?"
The cloaked figure beside him stepped out toward Hermione, removing his cloak. The long greasy hair and crooked nose were all too familiar, and as Snape pulled out his wand with a smirk, she realized that he was about to perform the Cruciatus Curse on her.
"With pleasure, my lord. Crucio!"
As a searing pain soared through her body, Hermione fell to the ground, unable to stop her body from contorting into painful positions. Her head arched back and her eyes rolled into her head, it felt like her body was on fire, it felt like a thousand knives were stabbing her over and over again, but she couldn't scream, she couldn't give them that pleasure-
And then it was over. She was on her hands and knees, panting, gasping to catch her breath. Snape stood over her, looking at her like she was a disgusting, pus-filled creature that had just oozed all over his shoes, and she was suddenly filled with such a terrible rage and hate for him that it was all she could do to keep herself from jumping on him and ripping his heart out of his chest. Voldemort leered at her.
"Now, let's try this again, shall we? Where is the famous boy-who-lived?"
Hermione looked resiliently at the floor, still panting.
"Oh, I see. You'd like to have a little more fun? Well, that can be arranged. Perhaps you would like to play with Ms. Granger this time, Bellatrix?"
Hermione looked up, and one of the figures emerged from the darkness. She threw off her hood and thrust out her wand with zeal. Her long black hair hung down her back, and her hooded eyes were filled with a fanatical excitement.
"Thank you, my lord. Crucio!"
Hermoine's body was once again flooded with an excruciating pain, it reached every inch of her, it was agonizing, she couldn't hold out much longer-
-she screamed, tears were streaming down her face, her body slammed against the floor and she felt her lip bust open, she wanted it to end, she wanted to die, she didn't care-
And it ended again. The Death Eaters around her were all laughing, clapping, enjoying the show. Bellatrix was smiling euphorically, and Hermoine lay exhausted on the ground. A few of the Death Eaters threw dirt and spit on her, and out of the darkness she recognized the smooth voice of Lucius Malfoy: "Mud to mix with your blood, how fitting."
Voldemort silenced them all by raising his hand, and Bellatrix, with one last triumphant look down at Hermione, resumed her place in the darkness. Voldemort stared at Hermione, his eyes squinted into slits so small it was a marvel he could see out of them.
"Now," he said, in a lower, more dangerous voice, "tell me where Mr. Potter is."
Gathering all her power, Hermione raised herself up, and stared daggers at him, blood running down her chin.
"No," she growled defiantly, the first word she had said since entering the room, and a silence fell over the Death Eaters.
Voldemort scrutinized her for a moment, then looked away.
"Very well. Draco, would you please escort the mudblood back to her cell."
Without a word, Malfoy came forward and took her by the arm, heaving her up into a standing position, then quickly let her go. He began walking toward the door, expecting her to follow, but she stood there, body trembling, and spat at Voldemort's feet.
"I will never break. So go ahead and kill me, you coward."
Bellatrix gasped, and darted out at Hermione with her wand raised.
"You unworthy, disrespectful mudblood-"
"Bellatrix," Voldemort boomed out. She jerked her head toward him, but did not move her wand from Hermione's direction.
"Draco, take the mudblood to her cell now."
Malfoy lifted his wand, and she suddenly felt herself moving against her will toward the door. It shut behind them once they reached the corridor, and was not removed until she was back in her cell. She fell against a wall, worn out, while Malfoy conjured up a basin of water and a washing rag. He set them down inside her cell, then walked out and closed the door. She stared at it, mesmerized by her reflection in the water. She didn't even recognize herself. Her hair was matted, tangled together in a horrible mess, and it even had a few twigs and leaves stuck inside. Huge dark circles were under her eyes, her face was streaked with mud, and her lip was swollen. She looked tired and dirty and not alive. Malfoy began walking down the hall.
"Harry told me about the Astronomy Tower. About how Dumbledore was trying to convince you to switch sides. And how he swears he saw your wand drop."
Malfoy stopped and slowly turned around. She looked up, and their eyes locked. It was the first time he had actually looked at her.
"Why did you hesitate?"
His expression did not change, his face didn't even twitch. He stood silent for a moment, then questioned her.
"Why did you stop running?"
She just looked at him.
He turned around and continued down the hallway. Hermione knelt on the ground, tucked her feet under her, and began to undress. She pulled the water basin toward her, brushed away a tear, and began to wash off her body.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Author's Note: So there's my Christmas gift to any of you reading, an update. I hope you enjoyed it! Please review, that can be your gift for me, yay. God that sounds lame. Anyway, reviewing would be stellar.