And in the raven I fell Chapter 3, a harry potter fanfic

A/N: Thank you all for the wonderful reviews. Bella sends you a kiss, and a crucio (you know you love it).

xXxXx

Ay que rico un dos tres

Sí te deseo otra vez

Pero no no no tu corazón

Más más más de tu limón

Querido

Dame de tu fruta

Vamos mi amor . . .

Te quiero puta!

Ay que rico

-x-

Oh, so good, one, two, three

Yes, I want you once again

But not not not your heart

More more more of your lemon

Darling

Give me your fruit

Come on, my love . . .

I love you, whore!

Oh, so good

-x-

I don't know how long it has been since I haven't seen the light of day, I don't know how many time I spent between those filthy walls, I don't remember how many hours, days, weeks ago it was that I reintegrated my cell. Could it be possible I have spent a month locked in here? Somehow it feels like it, but I have been fed four times through a little trap door since my wretched captor threw me back in here, if it had been a month, I wouldn't be alive to think about this. I marvel at the notion I am still able to formulate thoughts at all. I must have lost two or three pounds already since I arrived here, I am dirtier than I would ever have imagined, and the confinement is driving me insane. My last human contact was with...

I don't even want to think about it. But even that I could almost miss, being alone for such a long time is worse than the worst company.

As on cue, I hear a ruffling noise behind my door. Somebody's coming to visit me. I almost jump from anticipation, but I tell myself to calm down, it's certainly not a friendly guest.

Nope. It's Bellatrix. My first impulse is to tell her to bugger off and leave me to die alone but I hold back.

"How is it going in here, Her-mii-onne? Found some nice activities to spend your time? Developed a new talent for crosswords in the dust or counting on your fingers?"

"How long is it since I've been here?"

"Well... I don't see the problem in revealing that information to you. It's been a week, and you seem to keep up well. Not starving yet or anything?"

As I am about to retort that is none of her business, my stomach rumbles like on purpose.

"I see... Maybe you should join us for a casual dinner upstairs then, or are the rats counting on your company for tonight?"

I look at her as if she just told me she was getting a nose job to look like Voldemort. This just can't be the reason she came to see me. It's not as if I'm a guest of honour here or anything, she must have some crazy shit to put me through again.

I answer, weighing my words.

"I'm sorry, but as you pointed out, I'm quite busy with my new-found pastimes, so it would be nice of you to just get out of my sight."

I can't believe the poise with which she ignores my impertinence and her gentle tone of voice. "Are you sure? Do you want to spend another week caged in here like an animal? Don't you want to move your legs and get out of the cellar for a little while?"

I can't help thinking that the offer can be tempting, in my present situation. She notices my hesitation and takes that for an agreement to her little 'proposal'.

"Good, I'll reward you by allowing you to take a bath to be suitable for supper."

We arrive at a small bathroom on the main floor. It has no windows and is almost bare of objects. Only soap, a towel and the bath itself are in there.

"Isn't my sister nice? She set you all up for a safe and nice clean-up. We wouldn't want you to get hurt by trying to escape from a window or something. I shall leave you alone to wash off the dirt on yourself. Click your fingers when you want the elf to bring your new clothes. Unless you want me to stay to watch you..."

"No, you can leave... dirty old maniacal freak" I mutter when she finally closes the door and leaves me alone.

I undress and get in the tub, where I pull the tab for hot water. I sigh as I let the divine feeling of water and soap wash over me. I thoroughly rinse every part of my body - I really do need it - and let myself soak in the tub for as long as possible. As long as nobody comes to disturb me, I will take advantage of this rare luxury.

Two hours later, I feel I can't push back much longer the dreaded moment in which I need to come out of this safe haven to join Bellatrix and other Death Eater assholes, like she asked me to. I sigh and shake my head before clicking my fingers together, all wrapped up in my white towel.

A disgruntled looking elf appears. It has an innumerable amount of wrinkles around its eyes and on its face. It talks in a surprisingly grave voice for a female.

"Your clothing, missus." It slightly bows and disappears as quickly as it has come. Too fast for me to ask what the hell those clothes are. I was given a deep green velvet dress with such a wide cleavage that I first think it is for the back of the dress, but when I put it on, I see it can only go on front and that the cleavage line stops bellow my breasts, showing more skin than I ever have in public.

Of course, no underwear, I wouldn't have expected anything different coming from Bellatrix. Then, a pair of outrageously long black leather boots –that my mother would probably have called 'streetwalker boots'- are my second piece of attire. They are extremely tight and take forever to put on and strap up.

A high quality silver necklace was added to the list. On it are imprinted in gold letters the latin words Sanguine puritatus credimus. In blood purity we trust. I scowl in disgust and shove the fine piece of jewelry into the pocket of my new dress. I look at my reflection one last time in the mirror before I go. I am still Hermione, but something has died inside my eyes, maybe it is a little of my faith in humanity, maybe it is the innocence I still had, but something is definitely missing, something I had not realized I had before.

I shake the thought away, there's no point in dwelling over that, it will only make me sad, and they will take advantage of this weakness to get to me. I make a movement to open the door but when my hand approaches the handle, it 'magically' swings open. Lestrange was probably waiting for me the whole time I got dressed.

"Nice… Mudblood. I have such good taste." She seems very proud of herself and her choice. When I see how her gaze lingers on every inch of my skin exposed and on my curves, hugged by the contours of the dress, practically drooling over my looks, I wonder if she had hidden something in the bathroom to eye me up while I was naked. Considering who I'm dealing with, an assumption of incline to voyeurism wouldn't be too far fetched.

I look into her eyes and her somewhat guilty expression, mixed with undeniable arousal, are enough to convince me that she has, in fact, exactly done so.

"Enjoyed the show?" I ask with all the gall I am capable of.

Her jaw drops. "I don't know what you're talking about."

I raise my eyebrows, indicating beyond doubt that I don't believe her, and shrug my shoulders.

"If you say so."

A moment ago she seemed normal, that is if she is ever normal, but now she just saw something she didn't like and she suddenly looks like she's fuming.

"You didn't put the necklace on, you will follow my orders slut, or I will make you do so."

She raises a hand as if to hit me.

"Alright, alright!" I hurriedly take out the necklace and put it on.

I can't be bullied like this anymore, I can't take it. All the strength I thought I have just vanishes every time she threatens me. I feel so weak and helpless, and once again, I feel like crying.

She nods quietly and her scowl disappears. She seems to think that, in time, she'll just have to lift her little finger and I will do as she says, maybe that's what this is all about, she will brainwash me and turn me into a slave, and I will never recover the life I had before. She could have killed me a hundred times since I arrived here, yet she hasn't. She didn't even ask one single question about why Harry, Ron and I were on the run. She probably thinks we just went into hiding. If she only knew what we are up to…

"Dinner is all ready. You will sit next to me at the table, but you are not to utter a single word. If you do so, you can't even begin to consider the consequences of your actions. You are to stay respectful and put in your proper place. Don't peer at anyone and keep good table manners or, as I said, you'll be sorry."

She seizes my arm forcefully and shoves me in the direction of the spacious dining room of the Malfoys. Quite an assembly is already sat there. I instantly recognize Dolohov, the Death Eater we had obliviated during our encounter at the italian café in London. He looks like he has recovered his memory and sends me a deadly stare that would make anyone feel uncomfortable. At his left is sat Severus Snape, my ex potion professor, the one all Hogwarts school wants to kill, teachers included. He doesn't look in my direction and his gaze is fixed on a decoration on the table, he seems to be in deep thought. I truly hope this bastard will not talk to me because I don't think I'll be able to keep myself from retorting and disobeying Bellatrix.

Next to him is a blonde man, with a red striped business suit, quite old (does he dye his hair?), whom I don't know. He completely ignores mine and Bellatrix's arrival. He is talking to Lucius, who is sat opposite him at the table. Next to the blonde man, at one end of the table, are two middle-aged Death Eaters, who hold a striking resemblance to one another. One has slightly longer hair and is not shaved; the other's hair is greyer, with salt and pepper side whiskers coming down his cheeks, and a hint of moustache on his upper lip. Another difference in their appearance is that one has deep blue eyes, while the other has pale green ones, but they are unmistakably from the same family, the lines of their faces and their builds are identical. I can only assume they are the Lestrange brothers: Rodolphus and Rabastan. Both men are quite handsome, and when I think about all the inbreeding there must have been in their pureblood family, it surprises me. But then again, the same could be said about Draco's mother and aunt.

My eyes brush over Lucius Malfoy, I cannot stand to look at the git for too long (this aversion is one thing I seem to share with Bellatrix, how odd), before resting on his wife. She just looks like she doesn't fit at all in the picture of this Dark Lord fan group reunion. She isn't involved in any of the ongoing conversations and is concentrating on her folded hands with a focus that is very revealing of how she just doesn't want to be there. No set of nails can be that interesting. She is in her own house and still she seems totally out of place. One would imagine her attending mundane parties and aristocratic gatherings, but not an evening in the company of this kind of scum. The memory of the humiliation I went through when she was undressing me in front of her sister is still fresh and offensive to me, but I can't help to feel sorry for her. I don't really believe she has whole-heartedly chosen to be in her present situation.

Bellatrix makes me sit right in front of Dolohov, before sliding nonchalantly into the chair next to her sister. Thanks a lot, I feel like saying. This creep is now holding his knife as if he wants to break it in two and he won't stop looking at me, how nice. My former professor's eyes suddenly spring up and recognition dawns into his eyes. He doesn't seem disturbed by my presence here, just slightly startled. My mouth gapes open when I see him slowly considering my appearance and smirking. Dirty perv, I should have known there was something wrong with him when he taught us. All those weird detentions he gave like scrubbing the floor during hours on end while he looked at us and the way he kept disrupting his young female pupils when they talked about boys. I was the only one defending him in front of Harry and Ron and now I regret it, if I was bright, I should have seen through all his machinations.

I notice the seat next to me, the one which is supposed to be the place of honour of the table, is still empty. I worry it could be the one for their Master; I don't think I could bear having Voldemort next to me during a whole dinner. Not that I believe he would allow such a thing. I even wonder how Bellatrix made everyone accept my sitting there like one of them. It is totally illogical.

I am relieved –well relieved is still a strong word- when I see Draco Malfoy appear at the doorframe and take the vacant seat. He is silent and sombre. He looks like he hasn't slept in days. He seems to fear every one of the Death Eaters present because he avoids looking at them directly. When he glances at me, he quickly looks away and doesn't say anything. He must have known I was in the house. I wonder if he feels at least a little sorry for me, as a fellow Hogwarts student and somebody of his age, to see me in this condition, with his aunt holding my fate in her hands: the possibility of making me die, or live (but at what costs?).

Narcissa Malfoy is always overprotective with her son, something I had the occasion to remark even if I can count on one hand the times I saw the family reunited before, such as during train departures once in a blue moon and at the Quidditch cup three years ago. She communicates the feeling she only lives for him, I don't know what she would have done, if like her sister, she had stayed without child.

"Everything is fine, Draco?" She asks with deep concern in her cerulean eyes.

"Yes, mother." He sticks to the strict minimum, visibly no wanting to talk.

She seems reassured and, after one meaningful look of disapprobation towards me, she resumes staring at her perfectly polished nails again.

Similarly to the system at Hogwarts, the arrival of the last awaited guest automatically triggers the serving of the food. Cristal glasses fill to the brim with rich red wine, I'm surprised both Draco's and mine do also. The plates fill up with delicious smelling entrees that consist in a large chunk of red meat, with steamed vegetables and rosemary mashed potatoes on the side. There is also hot pumpkin pottage served next to the main meal. I wonder why they serve it at the same time but I assume it is for the guests that don't like one of the two dishes or prefer to start with the meat. Bellatrix looks like she is starving and hasn't eaten for days, though I should be the one that's famished. She attacks her potatoes with enthusiasm and finishes them in only three bites. She swallows the lot with a large gulp of wine. She looks sideways at me and I realise I had been waiting for her permission to start eating too. She motions towards my plate to indicate I can. I feel disgusted at myself for actually needing her authorization.

I become aware of the fact my utensils are not like everyone else's. They gave me a wooden spoon, fork and knife. Do they think I'm going to suddenly attack them with the silver, for goodness' sake? Or maybe they think I might sneak them back in the cellar and use them to dig a tunnel, who knows?

I am so hungry that I head for what's most nourishing first: the steak. With this damn wooden knife, I can't even begin to cut it. After two minutes of struggle, I quit. I somewhat angrily take the soup bowl and consume all its content. I don't stop there; I devour all the vegetables and potatoes. I feel like Ron. I fight with my steak for a minute more and abandon. I sit back in my chair and cross my arms. Draco, next to me, has barely touched his food.

In the meantime, nobody has spoken a word to me or truly acknowledged me, which is not a bad thing because it takes away the temptation to answer, and ultimately get killed, or worse, knowing the person at my left. They are having separate conversations according to whom they speak to, and I am stunned when I take the time to listen to them. Lucius and the blonde man in the red suit, which I gathered up is called Yaxley, are discussing their ways of taking over the Ministry of Magic, they even state the names of the persons they are going to curse to overrun their positions and make them follow their plans. Pius Ticknesse, the new minister, is part of the list of officials to be put under the Imperius.

The Lestrange brothers and Snape are in confabulation too. They are commenting the different measures the new administration of Hogwarts has put into order to terrorize the students as well as coerce them into their cause. I shudder when I hear the tortures and mistreatments they are now allowed to perform on the young pupils that question blood purity or Voldemort's all-powerfulness and hitlerian-like regime.

Don't they know I am able to hear them? What if I reported everything to the Order? That's when realisation dawns on me that they don't think I'll come out of here alive, they just take for granted that I'll be killed sooner or later, or be kept captive until the Order and every last good wizard on this Earth perishes.

I suddenly feel nauseated; my hope of getting away from here is becoming thinner and thinner as days pass. I even begin to question the fact they are still looking for me. Could they have abandoned already and continued life as if nothing happened?

The plates and empty bowls suddenly vanish from sight. They are replaced by small cheese plates, with at least five varieties in them. Rye bread accompanies the cheese. More wine makes its appearance. The men are getting drunker and drunker, I can see it in the way they talk, or more drawl on, and in the way they look at Bellatrix, Narcissa and me with growing lustful eyes. Lucius even needs to temper some saucy comments Yaxley and Rabastan make on his wife's appearance. Bellatrix can handle the remarks on her own, once they tell something like that to her they don't do it again. She shuts them up quickly enough. I still play mute.

While I stick to two glasses of wine only to keep my senses with me, she is getting quite drunk herself. She begins whispering into my ear of things she would like to do to me, in a low, drunk, wanting to be sensual voice: among them, lick me, make me scream, orgasm and nastier stuff, like dominating me or 'screwing me hard'. I pray that no one else hears her. It's quite embarrassing for me. She then keeps talking about things she would like me to do to her, like eating her out or fucking her with my fingers. She is very explicit. She is too obscene to be real. I just want to scream NYMPHO at her, slap her and leave the scenery. But all I can do in a room full of Death Eaters is flush red and get dizzy from more alcohol to put my mind off what I'm hearing.

She unexpectedly gets hold of my left hand and pulls it towards the brim of her skirt. With a firm clutch on my wrist, she brings it up to the inside of her thigh and caresses her own leg in slow movements, using my hand. I skirmish noiselessly with as few movements possible to make her let go of me, without anybody noticing her little entertainment. She flicks her hand to rotate my wrist painfully, it's a silent threat: she could break it in two just by the force of her fingers. Reluctantly, I let my hand soften. She is now using it at her pleasure, moving my finger to circle her clit or bringing it along her slit. I am biting the inside of my cheek to keep from reacting.

I'm astonished everyone is too engrossed in their wine and their talk to notice her concealed movements under the tablecloth, even the ever perceptive Severus Snape. She's crazy enough to do such a thing with her husband just across the table, not that I exactly felt the love or sense of belonging between the two of them but still, it's unbelievable. I understand now why she wanted me to join them tonight; she gets her excitement with the thrill of possibly getting caught.

I look left and I see Narcissa is staring exactly at the spot where my hand is moving, under Bellatrix's skirt. She's close enough to see what's going on. She immediately asks everyone if they would excuse her, and rises from her seat. At that exact moment I feel Bellatrix's inner muscles spasm. She quickly lets go of my hand and I wipe it on the expensive velvet of my dress.

Narcissa throws a last long shocked look in our direction, before leaving the room rapidly, and taking Draco away with her.

Bellatrix watches her leave with a smirk on her face. The insane bitch doesn't seem to mind at all if the world knows what filthy things she is making me do, well at least if her sister knows.

She seems to decide it's time for her to retreat too, stands up, bids goodbye to Yaxley, Rabastan and Dolohov, but ignores Lucius, Snape and her own husband. She grabs my arm again, it seems her preferred way of controlling my comings and goings, and almost drags me out of the dining room because she walks too fast for me to have time to keep up.

When we arrive in front of the cellar, the place I least want to go back in the whole world, she slides inside, goes down the stairs with me, slams me on a wall and kisses me. Her breath smells strongly of alcohol as she sucks on my tongue and snogs me hard. I have difficulty keeping breathing. She pulls back and smiles, satisfied. A deranged, toothy smile.

"Goodnight, pet." She says to me almost tenderly. She strokes my cheek, and leaves, turning her back on me, not expecting me to attempt anything, which I don't. Before closing the door, she laughs, and I'm not sure if I like the sound of it or if I'm scared of it.

I let myself slide down the wall and into the dirt that has become my bed for the last eight days. I close my eyes and wait for sleep to come, beaten.

xXxx

A/N: Is this wrong? Probably. Do I like what's wrong? Certainly.