There was darkness and after a long while, light. The world around her was a blur of grey and dull colors. She rubbed her eyes trying to regain her sight.
In a moment her head began to ache and pound hard like drums. She had hit the ground so hard she was lucky she did not get a concussion.
Hermione rolled to her side and winced at the pain, much like her head, her body felt like hell.
She had no idea where she was or how she got there. Hermione was disoriented she couldn't even remember running out of the school.
All she could remember was hanging up the phone and trying to hold back the pain in her heart. But how long she had been here she could not tell.
Now her senses were slowly coming back to her and she could start to make out her surroundings.
Hermione's natural instinct was to grip at her clothes, they were untouched. That was always a good sign that no one tried to touch her while she was unconscious. Still, it made her feel sick imagining that it might happen. So she shut her eyes for a moment to try to calm herself.
She could feel the hard bed underneath her and how the old cotton sheets felt like they were covered in thick dust. How damp and cold the room smelled because the walls and floor were from moist molding concrete. The room felt so old, so tired, and so lonely. The walls were chipped and there were deep grooves from all the aging. Once smooth cement was now rough and cracking, flaking away as the years went by.
The room itself was small only containing two single person beds, an old vanity with a broken mirror, a small dresser with two missing drawers, and a small woven basket. It had its own bathroom with no door, just a small tub with metal grate drain underneath it and a tiny toilet with a long broken chain.
Above and between the beds there was a small barred window high up. Letting in only small rays of light, the room would always feel dim.
As for the only door, it was big and heavy. The stain on the wood faded leaving the once beautiful door old and weathered. To her she knew this would be the only way out.
Hermione tried to get up off the bed, falling to the floor with a heavy thud. The impact was just great enough to make the just barely scabbed cuts on her legs reopen; this didn't faze her.
She pulled herself up and tried for the door again but with her legs wobbling like a new born fawn, she tripped forward and caught herself with the knob of the door.
She twisted, tugged, pushed, and pulled on the door handle but nothing worked. It was almost like if it was made of stone, but she could tell thankfully it wasn't.
She sat down on the floor, arms raised up still clenching the door knob. In her panic she managed to notice the floor, how some spots she hadn't even touched were clean of dust. Come to think of it, some parts of the vanity and basket had finger prints on them.
Someone had been in here, possibly watching her sleep. This isn't a random abandoned location; who ever took her knew what he was doing.
Yet, there was nothing Hermione could do about it. So she sulked there by the door, unable to pull herself back up.
-oooo-
Hours passed alone and eventually she did manage to get up. She explored every inch of that tiny room, until coming to the conclusion she did not want. That the door was truly the only way out of this prison.
She tried thinking of ways to escape but it all seemed illogical, other than running past who ever opened the door and making a run for it.
Hermione lay on the bed with nothing else to do; she stared and looked at all the cracks on cement ceiling. She thought about her parents, how she hoped they were looking for her right now. Perhaps there was already a search party out looking for her. Maybe Sarah and the others would tell them about the oddly dressed man watching them after school.
She was scared to death but she kept hope in her heart. She refused to be trapped here; she would be strong for her parents.
Then, there it was, the sound of the door knob turning.
As her heart jumped into her throat, she tensed up and gripped the sheets of the bed.
The door opened, and the man in black walked in. Swift and graceful he was in his entrance, so much she didn't realize the door had already closed, locking them both in.
She sat up, trying to hold back the fear that was on her face.
There he was, Lucius Malfoy, in all his rotten glory. The man who had been eyeing her down, the man she could not out run.
"It's you! You're the creep that was watching me after school. You son of a..-", she couldn't find a word strong enough to match her anger.
His face was unmoving but he jotted up eyebrow, almost daring her to finish that sentence.
Hermione got up off the bed quickly, "Where am I? Who are you?"
He took a few steps towards her making her back up more into a defensive stance.
"I am Lucius Malfoy," he said looking down on her, "You are here to serve me; I shall become your master." He was all too prepared with that answer.
She scowled and puffed herself up, "I shall not be anyone's servant! I want to go home right now, let me go or I will fight back with everything that I have!"
He secretly loved that feistiness in her, but he would break her soon enough.
His mouth formed into a small smile, "Typical muggle. You must think you are so brave for standing up to me. There's no doubt you'd be another brainless Gryffindor."
Hermione didn't take lightly to being called brainless. She ran up and swung at him, aiming for his jaw. With a gloved hand he grabbed her wrist before she could make contact with his face.
His grip was strong and powerful, it felt like he had cut of the circulation to her hand.
Lucius pushed her onto the floor against the wall and swiftly pulled his wand from his cane. Aiming it at her he spoke, "Don't try anything with me muggle. I have no problem killing you."
Those words freighted her but she couldn't take him seriously. "Is he really pointing a wand at me?" she thought to herself. She let out a small giggle. How could she be intimidated by a man pointing a stick of black wood at her? She half expected him to yell "Bippity Boppity Boo!"
"You think this is a game?" his expression still unmoving but she could still sense how angry her laugh made him.
"I'm sorry sir, but that's exactly why I laughed, because this isn't a game. I don't want to play dungeons and dragons with you or whatever this is. I want to go home and see my parents."
"Your parents? Why would they want to see you when they can't even remember who you are?" Lucius' words were so smug and confident.
Hermione felt her heart tighten, "How did you know? What… What did you do to them?" Her weak words broke into a loud growl.
"Now muggle, you are a bright young girl. How could I have taken you if you were going to have two pathetic little roaches after you? You are smart; you should have figured that out."
"I don't understand this at all. Why don't they remember me? I'm their only daughter, why won't they remember!" By now she had balled herself up with her face between her knees.
"I've wiped their memories. I couldn't have the ministry know I had taken home a muggle girl. Imagine if word got out that a great aristocrat such as myself took home a filthy little muggle girl."
She wanted to say something clever and fearless, all she could say was, "You are wrong, they will come after me. They love me; I know they won't rest until I'm back home."
He didn't respond to her, it would be a waste of time explaining how obilivation worked. Instead he threw a clump of black clothes on her, including a pair of black boots. "Change, we can't have you working in those filthy rags."
Calling her uniform 'filthy rags' was the first of many lies he would feed her. If he wanted her to his own he must use his greatest strength and break her down. She'd eventually see things his way no matter how long it took.
She let out an angry grunt of defiance and pushed the clothes off of her to the side. "Just let me leave, please I won't tell anyone."
"Get dressed or I will force you into these clothes. When I return you better be dressed or else you shall be punished. You have one hour. Make sure to bathe as well, you look repulsive."
By the time she looked up at him to yell he was already gone.
Again she was alone with her thoughts. Her alone in a tiny room forced to play along.