Hello again, and on to chapter 6! I was able to get this one done on a 5 1/2 hour car ride (not too bad) down to NC.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the Harry Potter series

Draco could see his aunt staring at him out of the corner of his eye, assessing his reaction to seeing the mudblood Granger brought in. He quickly composed himself, masking the astonishment he felt inside with a professional and business-like countenance. Bellatrix smiled a self-satisfactory smirk, pleased with herself at presenting such a valuable prisoner to her nephew, as if this was an early christmas present to a young child.

"Well?" she cackled. "It's the mudblood, is it not? Possible not in the best condition, but we're not concerned about that, since that's the best anything like her will ever look. The stupid bitch fairly waltzed into our hands down in Diagon Alley. Bookstore, imagine that. I'm actually astounded that we didn't catch her sooner, I thought she was supposed to be intelligent."

Bellatrix grinned again. But when she received no reaction from Draco, she sighed. "She's the key to Potter. As long as we have his little broad, he's as good as ours. It's funny, these 'good guys'. Their one weapon is their downfall. Love conquers all, how cliché. When will they learn that sentiment is a hindrance, and always found on the losing side?" Bellatrix spat these final words directly at Hermione, and turned heel.

"Put this filth in the lower dungeons," she said gesturing to the rest of the catch that the snatchers brought in, about 20 other young witches, wizards and muggles. "but leave the mudblood for me, I'm going to interrogate her myself. Draco, meet us at 8 down in the lower chamber in the right wing of the dungeons. Bring your stash of Veritaserum, just in case we have trouble."

Hermione was stolid throughout this whole exchange, but when one of the larger snatchers grabbed her arm, she winced at the harsh contact. He bent towards her and smiled, sour breath swirling around her, making her feel as if she were to faint. "Maybe if I'm lucky, they'll let me have your remains, precious." He gave her a lurid smile, and pushed her down on the ground in front of Bellatrix.

Hermione remained on her knees, staring defiantly up at Bellatrix with her disparaging eyes that held all the secrets she knew Bellatrix longed to hear, and that clearly showed she would rather die than reveal them. Even when she's at our mercy, she still manages to be the same condescending know-it-all she always has been. Draco noted, half amused, and half infuriated. Bellatrix glared back, but her eyes hid the satisfactory knowledge of what she would do the girl to achieve her goal.

Bellatrix motioned for one of the snatchers to haul Hermione back to her feet, and the three of them descended towards the torture chamber which would be Hermione's hell on earth for however long it took for Bellatix to sate herself. And then, it would be her tomb.

Draco looked at his 300 galleon watch. He had two whole hours until 8. He looked up, where the rest of the new prisoners were standing still in a huddle, their herders unsure of what to do next. "You heard Bellatrix." Draco snapped. "Take this lot down to the lower chambers. And then when you're done, you can send off the new shipment to Battersea, they're in a need for more workers." He nodded in the direction of the cages lining the walls, each containing 3 to 4 haggard and wretched looking people, their emaciated bodies twisted impossibly to accommodate them.

They filled the air with the stench of their own filth, their vacant faces staring blankly ahead of them unseeing and unknowing, cadaverous appearences so thin they could easily be mistaken for their own shadows. And they were waiting until the time when they would be sent to the camps to work until they could not anymore, and would be sent to Azkaban to be disposed of. That time was not far off, and Draco knew it. Looking away from the cages and their doomed occupants, he noticed that the leader of the snatchers was waiting for his attention. Draco looked sharply at him.

"Well?" He asked. He recognized Silas, the snatcher he had seen in the elevator, but he was not as courteous now as he had been then. The brute bowed his shaggy head, and spoke in an uneducated and oily voice, displeasing to hear, and even more displeasing to have to see the one who spoke it. "My lord, I been thinking. My men and me, as it was us who done bring in the girl, the one you wanted, we didn't get nothing out of it, and we want no more than our fair share, but we aint gotten no pay in a month, and we want a reward." Draco sighed, running his hand through his hair. "Alright. What do you want for your, um, compensation?" Silas grinned.

"My men and me, we want a pick from the lot. A pretty companion for a night or two is what we've been wanting. Give us each a girl of our choice." The men behind him smiled and laughed, agreeing with their leader. Draco looked evenly at the man in front of him. "The time for negotiation is not yet past. Your requirements are too high at the current time. We need all the workforce that we can have. But," He added when one of the men angrily started forward, "I will give you first choice of any girls when a new arrival comes." The man nodded, satisfied for the time, and with his men herded the prisoners down to the dungeons. As soon as they were out of sight, Draco furrowed his brow and clenched his teeth.

What am I thinking? Giving a young girl to an incompetent fool like that to avoid a revolt, It's blackmail. It's no different from slavery, but somehow, it doesn't feel right. Draco sighed again and looked up, where he met the eyes of a young girl in one of the cages opposite him. Her scared eyes indicated that she had heard the entire conversation, and her gaze said all that she couldn't. Her pleading eyes and supplicatory features showed her terror of being given to such a brute, her hands gripped the bars of her cage so tightly, her knuckles were sheet white.

Draco stared at her for a moment longer, before turning towards the staircase and beginning his ascent. He had two hours to kill before he had to meet his aunt, and her didn't want to spend it in a room of people that made him feel guilt. Guilt! Of all feelings! He angrily thought. I'm a Malfoy, I do not feel. Emotions are weakness, that is why my mother was killed. I am not weak like her. I am not weak like my father. I do not feel. I. Am. Not. Weak!

With each punctuated word he hurled himself up each stair, grabbing hold of the railing and propelling himself forward. He unexpectedly reached the top and stepped back into the pleasantly busy ministry hall, the people headed out of their offices and back to their homes for the night. He looked at his watch again, out of habit. That was one thing he had learned in his house of late at the Malfoy Manor, punctuality. Always to be on time. And now there was time enough to get dinner in London and be back before eight.

He turned into the hallway where his office was situated and grabbed his cout off the back of the door. Throwing it on, he took a lift down to the floo hallway where there was already a line to leave. As soon as he approached a fireplace, everyone nervously cleared out of his way, allowing him clear access. Her nodded in acknowledgment, not out of thanks, and quickly flooed out and into his fireplace of choice. Borgin and Burkes. Unclean, but convenient.

Unnoticed by the shops slimy owner, he slipped out and into Knockturn Alley. Brushing off the soot as he walked, he reached Diagon Alley. Directly across from him was Flourish and Blotts, the bookstore where Granger was caught.

It had deteriorated since he had last seen it, and the books seemed less appealing to him than they had once been. He could almost imagine her, being revealed in the one place she had always seemed safe in, being found by hell in her one paradise. Shaking the image of the captured Hermione out of his head, he looked past Flourish and Blotts and saw a café just ahead.

He opened the door, and (needing no introduction for everyone knew who he was) was greeted with the ultimate courtesy and led to a secluded booth in the back. He sent the waiter away with a simple order of a firewhiskey and a roast duck, and just as the waiter stepped away, the door opened to reveal a beautiful and lavishly-dressed young woman who, when she looked around and caught sight of Draco, immediately headed for him, to his irritation. Astoria. She had been doggedly following him as early on as when she was able to walk, eagerly vying for his attention, trying to gain his interest, but unable to take a hint. She dropped herself gracefully into the seat opposite him and flashed him a seductive smile.

"How sweet and thoughtful to get such a private booth for us, darling." She purred. He stared at her confusedly.

"I came here alone, I didn't ask you to meet me." He carefully enunciated each word to get it through her thick skull. Though Astoria was rich and a pureblood, she was certainly not the sharpest knife in the drawer.

"What? Do you mean, drake honey," she simpered, "that you didn't tell you aunt to tell me that you would meet me here? That you had a surprise for me? She said that you asked me to dinner here tonight. I got all ready for it, it's so generous of you, sweet."

Draco ground his teeth. His aunt, of course. She had been pushing for their marriage ever since they had been born, and had tried, and failed, to set them up on one too many occasions. Draco's food arrived, and he nodded for it to be set it front of Astoria.

Grabbing the firewhiskey, he downed it in one gulp, gave a contented (and a little tipsy) smile to the waiter, and a sarcastic salute to Astoria (which was accompanied by a certain rude hand gesture once her back was turned) and left the table, his dinner back in front of the stunned girl and the waiter who could barely contain his laughter (one look from Astoria put a stop to it) and stumbled out into the street, the effects of the firewhiskey beginning to grasp him.

He staggered back into Borgin and Burkes and took a handful of Floo Powder. Shaking his head to clear it, he stepped into the emerald flames. "Ministry of Magic" He spoke, his tongue feeling thick and unfamiliar. This wasn't the first time he had been drunk, but they feeling was always unwelcome all the same.

Shooting out of the fireplace into a deserted Ministry of Magic, he got back onto the lift and pressed the button 'L' for the basement level. He got off a few seconds later, and turned down the hallway to the right, to the very end, where his aunt had asked to meet him. He turned the knob of the door, and it creaked open.

Bellatrix was in the corner of the room, sitting down and examining her nails, with Hermione on the ground in front of her, writhing around in agony and her mouth open in a horrific scream, but no noise escaped, for Bellatrix, whose ears were 'too sensitive to the howling' had cast a Silencing curse on her.

At Draco's presence, Bellatrix lifted the curse and Hermione ceased to move, sniffling. Draco, who wasn't exactly in his right mind of thinking tried to process what he had just seen.

"How are you going to get information if she can't talk?" He asked after a few moments.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "Once the foreplay is over, then she can decide if she wants to talk. If not, there's more." Bellatrix slid her gaze to the girl in front of her. "That's up to her. I'll ask again. Where is Potter?"

Hermione lay immobile on the ground, tears leaking out of her eyes, and her breathing so loud and so ragged it was almost impossible to make out what she said, but the fire that remained in her eyes clearly told everything it needed to. She was loyal to the order, and it would take more than death itself to get her to betray them.

Bellatrix frowned. "Very well. You've just given me another opportunity to test out a personal favorite of mine." She pointed her wand at Hermione's core and spoke in a high-pitched voice, "Crucio Fixatius."

Hermione, the silencing spell off, let out an unearthly scream that resonated deeply at Draco's core and made him feel as if his very bones had shattered. She twisted and turned, clutching at her stomach, her throat, her hair, gripping the floor and convulsing. Blood-tainted foam appeared at the corners of her mouth, and she coughed up blood in between her screams and cries.

Draco tumbled back away from the scene, fascinated, and disgusted. He held onto the doorway for support, and fell to the ground. The firewhiskey burned coming back up, and the contents of his stomach showed themselves once more, although in a less appealing fashion. Unable to erase the vision that he had just seen, and unable to control the his reaction to it, especially in his now-vulnerable state or drunkenness, he vomited outside the door. A fine sheen of seat covered his face, and he wiped his mouth, trying to compose himself.

"What are you doing to her?" He cried to Bellatrix. She smiled.

"I'm fixating the entire power of the Cruciatus curse upon one part of her body; currently her stomach. The Dark Lord taught it to me. It is interesting, is it not?"

Draco rubbed his eyes. "I need a cigarette." he muttered, and staggered back out the door.

Bellatrix watched him go, uncertain whether or not she should follow. She finally lifted the curse, and Hermione, her body too damaged to respond by blood loss and internal bleeding, gave way, and she fainted, lined in her own blood. Bellatrix sneered. "So weak. Until tomorrow, mudblood."

Throwing Astoria into the mix, tell me what you thought of her! She'll turn up a while later as well. I think it's about time to add back in Jacob, don't you? Next chapter is on the way!

Thanks for reading, please review!