Hermione's heart skipped a beat and she screamed to herself that it wasn't real, even as she watched the hem of his robes kiss the ground.
"Get the fuck away from here," Snape cursed, and Hermione knew it had to be real because not even in her wildest dreams could she imagine Snape cussing.
Lucius drew his wand nonchalantly and aimed it at Snape who gasped when a gash was torn into his cheek. "Do try and collect yourself, Severus. You haven't much ground to trample on anymore." Malfoy's voice was cold and calculating with an uncomfortable amount of humor in it.
As he spoke, he closed the space between him and Hermione quickly.
Hermione quivered and hated even that small revelation of weakness. She gritted her teeth and forced her eyes to meet his.
Lucius smiled and spoke over Snape's pitiful arguing being spewed from across the room. "Hello there, love. I must say, you look a shade better now than the last time I saw you."
His eyes scoured her bare legs while he licked his lips provocatively. Hermione ignored her churning stomach and tucked her legs beneath her as best as possible. "I might say the same to you," she spat, proud that her voice didn't quaver. "Lust and desperation just aren't your colors." She gave him a once over before declaring, "On second thought, I can't come up with a color that would suit you."
He laughed, but his eyes darkened and she wasn't fooled. So, I'll just be sticking with what I know best. Don't you agree?" He fingered the button on his trousers tauntingly.
This time, her stomach churned violently, and painfully, since it was empty.
"I swear on your life, Lucius, you will not touch her if you know what's good for you," Snape bellowed. He was positively seething. He actually looked quite dangerous and Hermione knew she'd be afraid of him if she was in Lucius's shoes.
The latter, though, appeared nothing more than perturbed. He swooped down to crouch beside Snape, just out of reach.
"Well, well, Severus, do I detect a budding romance?" Lucius mocked, cocking an eyebrow.
Snape did nothing but spit in the man's repulsive face.
The only indication that Lucius noticed Snape's assault was when he wiped himself clean. Otherwise, he remained calm. His voice, however, was a different story.
"I don't really think you're in the position to be making demands, Severus, do you?" His voice was positively dripping with malice. He ground his boot into the now open wounds on Severus's stomach, pushing him back against the wall and eliciting a snarl, before straightening. "As it so happens, it is not I that wishes to speak with the girl, but the Dark Lord. I'll return your little whore after he's finished with her."
With a flick of his wand, the links chaining Hermione to the wall severed and landed in his hand. "Maybe if you're good," he sneered, "we'll be able to…play…later."
He yanked her to her feet and dragged her to his side. She chanced a glance at Snape and she had never seen him so worried, so frantic.
And then the door was slammed shut between them.
-BREAK-
The door slammed, leaving Severus to rot in the same cell he'd occupied for three days. This time, however, it was down an occupant.
Snape beat against his binds like they'd deteriorate with time. He frowned when they didn't. He sank back down to the ground but his mind was set whirring.
This couldn't be happening, not again. The Dark Lord never wanted just a word—he invariably coupled it with rape or torture or, God forbid, murder. That poor girl. She knew how to handle herself—she'd come to Snape with immense raw talent and he the taught her how to hone her abilities, to maximize them. That would be no help, though, without a wand.
Snape let his head hang. The fear in her eyes as she'd exited had been heart-wrenching. She had shown remarkable strength in the past, that was true, but how many people would be able to withstand much more? Hell, he didn't think he'd be able to handle much more. He cracked his neck and sighed. When would this nightmare end?
Snape thought of Lucius's "whore" comment and burned with anger. Hermione Granger was many things—brave, smart, even beautiful—but whore was not one of them.
He caught himself. Beautiful? Lucius's first remark came to mind. He immediately pushed the thought to the dredges of his mind. She was his student—his young, bright, and markedly tortured student. He had no right defiling her good name in his mind.
No matter how natural it felt.
Snape gasped internally. What in Merlin's name had gotten into him? Cut off from civilization for three days and plagued by worry, he turned downright animalistic.
His mind was wiped clear of nothing but fear, however, when a screech sounded in the distance.
-BREAK-
Lucius yanked on Hermione's chain and nearly sent her tumbling. She did her best to keep up; she didn't need bloody knees on top of everything.
And that everything included coming face to face with the man who killed countless men and women for the second time in a matter of months. She noticed she seemed to be thinking and taking note of everything but what they were walking towards; she noticed the dim light in the halls lit by lanterns strung up high towards the ceilings, the cold as it increased the further down they went, even Lucius's stiff back and split ends. Those were numerous, though, he should really use conditioner.
Hermione wondered if this was some kind of defense mechanism. Currently, they spiraled down a stone staircase with windows interspersed and though she tried to force her mind to think of options, think of defensive strategies, it constantly wandered to the expanse outside the window and was trying to decide where they were.
That couldn't really hurt, she surmised.
She wondered vaguely if she wasn't coming up with strategies because she knew, in reality, none would help. She was quite literally bound and chained and was as wandless as a Muggle. They could do with her what they pleased, and she had no doubt that she would.
A shiver ran down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold air.
Finally, they came to a set of double doors. A guard stood, wand at the ready and mask in place, in front but stepped aside when Lucius approached. Hermione got the distinct impression she was to wait there as he disappeared behind wood.
Hermione eyed the guard nervously, and he seemed to do the same to her. "How's it going, Granger?" he muttered almost nonchalantly.
Draco Malfoy always did have his father's misplaced arrogance.
Hermione rolled her eyes and plucked up every ounce of bravery that ran through her blood. She cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, it's just peaches from my end, Malfoy. And you? Your wardrobe is looking decidedly," she contemplated the word, "…grimmer these days, no?"
Draco glanced down at his own all-black attire and scoffed, though she could tell it had hit a nerve. He always did have the self-confidence of an awkward teenage girl. "Very funny, Mudblood. Although I do believe it is I brandishing the wand and you brandishing the binds." His lips curled into a sneer that was identical to his father's and for a moment, the same hatred that pulsed through her veins at the sight of Malfoy senior was churned at the sight of his son.
And then, he softened. Hermione would've attributed that to dim lighting or tired eyes, but his words only backed up her sight. "Look, Granger—when you're in there, just shut up for once, will you?"
His words were harsh, but from him, that was downright endearment. "Why, Draco, do my ears deceive me or are you trying to help?"
He ignored her goading and continued. "I've been in there, standing before them all, and it isn't a picnic. And I was an ally." He gulped, but tried to mask it. "I can't imagine what they have in store for you."
Hermione straightened as best she could with the chains weighing on her limbs, but considered him for a moment. "You actually are trying to help."
Draco shrugged, and his arrogance reared its ugly head. "Yeah, well…don't get used to it. I just don't want to clean up the mess they would surely make if you prove to be insolent."
Hermione clenched her jaw and heard the warning in his haughty statement, and nodded. Draco returned the gesture and promptly shut his mouth. And what good timing, too, for it was then that the wooden door swung wide, revealing Malfoy senior.
Lucius nodded to his son, who mimicked him. Hermione wondered vaguely if that was the only sign of affection to ever pass between them and as soon as she thought it, she knew she was right. How sad.
All concern for others wash pushed to the back burner, however, when Lucius snatched the chains connected to her wrists and pulled with all his strength. He'd caught her off guard, and therefore she was sent tumbling into a circle of men and women draped in black with skull masks. All of them, that is, except for the apparent ringleader, who looked remarkably more snakelike than he did man.
Hermione collected herself from the grimy floor and didn't miss the stains of dried blood that marked it. As she made to get up, a flick of Voldemort's wand had her bending so low, she was nearly kissing the ground.
"You will show respect in my presence," he hissed, "and that entails bowing."
Hermione opened her mouth to curse his demands, but the eyed blood staring at her and Draco's warning echoing in her ears ensured that she pursed her lips tight and nodded.
"Ah, very good," the Dark Lord murmured. "We're learning."
With that, he released his magical hold on her, and she was sent gasping. As she righted herself, he swooped down from his perch on what appeared to be an outdated altar and made his way towards her like pace was not a concern. When he was low enough, he crouched so they were eye level and they were so close that she could feel the puffs of cold air every time he took a break. "I hope you find your lodgings…adequate."
He was goading her, but she would not take the bait. "Perfectly adequate."
She saw his jaw clench tightly, but his lips stretched into a smile. "Happy to hear." He rose and paced the floor before her. He must've made some kind of motion that meant something to the rest of the Death Eaters, because they closed in ranks around them. Hermione unconsciously hugged her arms to herself as best she could, but straightened admirably.
"Now, Hermione, you know as well as I do that I am a man of business. And as such, I never act without absolute purpose." He spun on his heel and smiled down at her gruesomely. "Do you know what I mean?"
He spoke slowly, like she was incapable of comprehending normal speech, and it grated her ever-chaffing nerves. She cracked her neck and answered, "You mean to say that you've captured Severus and me for a reason. I'm willing to bet you're about to tell me what that reason is."
Voldemort laughed and it was a horrid sound. Like nails on a chalkboard. "They've always said you were the brightest in your year and now, I can believe them!" he mocked. "Very true, Hermione. There is a…a method to my madness, if you will." He drew himself to full height and looked down at her. "I would like very much to put that bright mind of yours to use."
Hermione cocked a brow. "I'm listening."
"Now, I'll present you with two options but you will, in time, see that there is truly only one viable option. Behind door number one," he hissed, and his followers erupted into giggles, "you have the option I recommend. You will reveal everything you know about the traitor Severus Snape and his affiliation with your blessed order. You will also hand us Harry Potter on a damned silver platter. In turn, you shall be rewarded." His tone grew colder and bitterer by the second, and his eyes flashed dangerously.
Hermione schooled her face into that blank mask Snape was so skilled at. She wasn't sure she was interested in any reward the Dark Lord was offering.
"Behind door number two is an option I'm sure none of us want," he murmured condescendingly. "Should you refuse, idiotically, you become mine. You remember so clearly our rendezvous just months ago; we will revisit, maybe even recreate, that night and I assure you, my dear, that you will not live to see morning." His snake lips turned up into a grimace that was supposed to be a smile, like he'd just offered her a lemon drop. "The choice is explicitly yours. And, of course, I am a merciful Lord. You have a day to think about it."
Hermione's heart was beating a little too fast for her liking, but she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Panicking would help nothing. She opened her eyes and narrowed them and decided to through all caution to the wind. "You can't really be that stupid."
If ever there was a murderous look, it was the one that passed across Voldemort's face.
Hermione pointedly ignored it and continued. "You have been trying for nearly 18 years now, haven't you, for someone to hand Harry to you. After 18 years, I'd have thought a man of your supposed caliber would've seen for himself that his endeavors are nothing but fruitless." With immense effort, Hermione rose to her feet and looked at Voldemort squarely. "Harry is surrounded by something that you will never have, and that is devoted allies. The beauty in that is that if you want him, you, and you alone, have to do the leg work. No one in this bloody world who has the knowledge about Harry that you seek will ever turn on him. It's called loyalty, and it's something you think you're familiar with but in reality, nothing has ever been so foreign. Except perhaps love, and even that's debatable."
An angry hum swept through the room, but Hermione quite easily spoke over them. "As for Severus, what else is there to know, truly? He swindled you, and quite masterfully at that. You who they say is a tremendous Legilimens was fooled, for years, by a man you deemed a servant. I do believe that says more about your stupidity than I ever could."
For the level of noise that arose at her pronouncement, you would've thought you'd stepped into the mosh pit. Hermione watched Voldemort grow positively murderous throughout the span of her speech and she knew that if he didn't so desperately need her help, she would've cold on the concrete all ready.
But he did need her help, so desperately it made him uncomfortable. And it was that which would ensure her life for at least the next twenty-four hours. And then?
Well, she'd deal with that in good time.
Hermione watched him carefully as he raised his wand and her stomach fell slightly. He wouldn't kill her yet, surely, but that didn't rule out torture.
"Crucio," he screeched, and she writhed in a pain that rivaled any she'd felt before. Her bones burned beneath her flesh, which itself felt like someone was taking a cheese grater to it.
The scream that escaped left her throat so raw, it may've been bleeding. Eventually, when she felt like she could no longer move, it stopped. Voldemort squatted beside her quivering form, and posed a question. "You have tasted what refusal is like. Are you sure you wouldn't like to rethink your answer?"
Her mind swam and her vision went alarmingly red, but she propped herself up on her elbows and looked him in the eye as best she could. "No, you see, I can see you're still stupid. I don't make deals with stupidity."
And a fire was set beneath her skin.
-BREAK-
Hours had passed, and the screams in the distance, from the bowels of whatever kind of structure they were trapped in, had barely stopped for a moment. Snape had quite literally made himself sick with worry. Spots colored his shirt from where he'd vomited bile, and the sweat that broke out on his forehead was now nearly painful in the cool night air.
Finally, blessedly, the wooden door was slammed open and a bundle of something was slammed haphazardly onto the stone floor before him. The bundle moved once, emitted a moan filled with pain, and was still as the door slammed shut again.
They hadn't bothered with Hermione's binds again this time—it wasn't like she could move, anyway. Snape fought so hard against his binds that his wrists were torn and bleeding.
"Hermione! No, Hermione!"
He quickly and expertly took in the state of her and was tremendously thankful that at the very least, all her clothes were in tact. She was sweaty and even a little bloody, but Snape thought that could be attributed to a lot of thrashing about on stone. As long as she hadn't been violated again, she could handle it. He could handle it.
At long last, she turned to him with what appeared to be tremendous effort. Her face was paled and her lip was cut, and she peered through heavy lidded eyes in his direction.
"I have a day," she whimpered and gasped. "A day to decide whether or not to hand Harry, and you, to him."
Snape gulped. He knew, better than anyone, that Hermione Granger would never let a traitorous word pass her lips for as long as she lived. "Or?"
Her eyes darkened and she pursed her lip with difficulty. "I die."
Author's Note: I envy strength like this! Maybe that's why I write about it. Please review, and trust me-she only gets stronger.