Hermione was awakened by the soft click of a turning lock.
She peeled open her dry eyes, squinting until her vision shifted into focus.
The room was dim. The ivory linen curtains had been replaced by thick black drapes that obscured any sign of the sun, and the only light came from the lamp on her bedside table.
Vague memories floated around in Hermione's mind, but she struggled to piece them together. She wondered if had been a particularly indulgent night of sappy Muggle movies and cheap Firewhiskey.
The witched reached to massage her throbbing temples, but gasped as a burning pain erupted through her wrist.
Hermione realized her left forearm was wrapped in a quick-heal magical bandage. But the analgesic charms woven into the gauze should have prevented any pain.
"Ah, you're awake."
Voldemort's deep, sibilant voice sent shocks of dread through Hermione's body.
She remembered now. The potion. The chant. The soul bond.
Hermione tentatively turned her head towards the dark wizard.
Voldemort stood in the doorway clad in heavy black dress robes, holding a cup of steaming Earl Grey.
"I've borrowed a few galleons for robes, I hope you don't mind," he said with a pleasant smile. "The Muggle castoffs you lent me weren't terribly flattering."
Hermione swallowed thickly. She wanted to scream, but her inflamed vocal cords strained to produce any sound.
"I work at the Ministry," Hermione croaked. "They'll realize I'm gone."
"Not to worry, my dear. I've sent an owl to your office explaining that you've come down with the mumblemumps."
Voldemort set the cup of tea down on Hermione's beside table.
"I'm going to tell everyone what you've done," she whispered.
The edges of Tom's lips curled into a chilling smirk.
"I highly doubt that. Have you seen your arm?"
With a wave of Voldemort's stolen wand, the bandage came undone.
On the inside of Hermione's forearm was a red, pulsing, painful Dark Mark.
A horrified gasp left Hermione's cracked lips. Her chest tightened, and her ribs felt as if they were splintering with each shallow breath.
This can't be real. This can't be real.
Voldemort crouched down next to the bed.
"Here, take this."
The wizard reached into his pocket, then pressed a phial of light purple liquid to Hermione's mouth. When she turned her head, Voldemort grabbed her chin and pried her jaw open. The witch spluttered as she choked down the velvety potion.
"That should soothe your nerves," said Voldemort.
He set the phial down and stood up.
"I've heavily warded both the bedroom and front doors. You will face very unpleasant symptoms if you attempt to bypass them. But not to worry," said Tom. "I've left you your research parchments. You may work on that while you recover."
"Fuck you," Hermione slurred.
A brief expression of anger flashed across Tom's handsome features.
"Now, now, Hermione. You'll find that keeping a pleasant attitude is in your best interest," he said. "After all, I'm the only one who knows you're here."
After Hermione's first day in captivity, time began to blur. The witch slept fitfully, and in her waking hours, she alternated between panic and hazy boredom.
A tray of food appeared on Hermione's nightstand when she became hungry. She refused to touch anything at first, in fear that Voldemort had laced the food with a tranquilizing potion- or worse. But eventually she succumbed to hunger, and scarfed down the bland meal of buttered toast and boiled eggs.
After a while, the somnolent haze began to wear off.
Soon after she awakened, Voldemort entered the bedroom and set a copy of the day's Prophet on the nightstand.
"Good morning. This should keep you occupied," said Voldemort, a perfectly pleasant expression gracing his features.
"They'll come looking for me. I know it," Hermione croaked. "I've never taken more than a day off work."
Tom smiled condescendingly.
"It's been five days, my dear. Nobody's coming."
Hermione's head swum with the realization. She was utterly trapped.
"It seems as if I'm your only friend right now," said Voldemort.
"I hate you," she spat.
"But you almost loved me for a little while, didn't you?"
Tom gave a smirk, then turned around and shut the door, leaving Hermione confined in her self-made prison.