The Past

One year, seven months and twenty three days previously...

Lucius Malfoy's left forearm throbbed. He was being summoned.

With a steady hand, he deftly undid the buttons on his cuff sleeve to expose his forearm. A fleeting look at his Dark Mark told him all he needed to know. This was no ordinary summons; it was a request for his presence, and his presence alone, as the Mark on his skin, now a brilliant shade of blood red, clearly construed.

He quickly searched his memory for anything that he could have done to infuriate his master in the past week. His mind drew a blank, and he hurried to redo his shirt sleeve and Apparate.

Immediately upon arrival he dropped to his knees, his head bowed low, where he remained until the Dark Lord summoned him forward. A ruffle of fabric was all the blonde-haired Slytherin could hear, and he instantly approached the apex of the room. Head still hunched low in a show of respect, he dared not raise his eyes to meet those of his Dark master. The only furniture in the room was a colossal throne that sat solitary in the rear, causing it to stand out against its bare surroundings.

When Lucius was close enough to kiss the hem of Lord Voldemort's robes, he did so immediately on bent knees and swiftly crawled backwards to the centre of the long room, his eyes glued to the floor. His joints began to ache from the constant pressure of the cobblestone floor digging roughly into his kneecaps.

Lucius knew better than to initiate communication without provocation, and therefore he waited for his master to speak to him first.

"Lucius," the serpent-like man hissed.

Lucius dared not move a muscle, his back trembling slightly with the effort of staying in a deferential position. He knew that his Lord was testing him, and he redoubled his efforts.

After what seemed like an eternity, the pale wizard, more creature than man, finally spoke. "You may rise."

"Thank you, my most generous Lord," Lucius responded, rising to stand on unsteady legs.

"You may be wondering why I brought you here today," Voldemort began. "I have a very important assignment for you." Lord Voldemort was uncharacteristically beaming as he clasped his hands together and rose in one fluid motion from his makeshift throne. "I don't have to tell you how important it is that you succeed in this task." He paused, shooting an ominous glare in Lucius' direction.

Lucius promptly countered, puffing his chest out proudly, "No, my Lord."

"Good." The Dark Lord then commenced pacing, his feet gliding over the stones silently.

"Then I also will not have to tell you that this undertaking is a top priority and, by extension, clandestine." Voldemort abruptly stopped pacing and whirled around in front of Lucius, his glowing crimson eyes never leaving his servant's face.

Lucius, who was used to the intimidation shown by the Dark Lord, did not flinch, and a few heartbeats later Voldemort smiled widely.

Lucius nodded his head once to show that he understood.

"I wish for you to capture the Mudblood, Hermione Granger, Potter's best friend. And I want you to break her," he said with a glint of lunacy in his slitted eyes. He turned away from Lucius, moving smoothly away from him before continuing. "I want her beside me when I confront Harry Potter. I think this will shatter what little resolve the brat has left. It shall give me the upper hand."

"Marvellous plan as always, my Lord," Lucius spoke, realising a fraction of a second too late the implications of speaking out of turn.

Voldemort spun around with lightning reflexes and raised his wand menacingly. "Crucio."

Lucius dropped to the floor, his cane flying from his hands and clattering to the stone floor of the fortress. He curled into a protective ball as the Curse wracked through his body, setting his nerve endings on fire. He moaned out loud as he felt his whole body would give way and surrender to the insanity that his mind was teetering upon.

Voldemort held the Curse in place for a full twenty seconds before releasing it.

"You will never speak out of turn, Lucius," the Dark wizard hissed, his red eyes narrowed, promising danger and further punishment. He raised an elegant hand and ran it over his naked scalp.

Lucius, who was still curled up in a ball on the floor, his body jerking roughly in the aftermath of the Curse and panting heavily, missed the gesture entirely.

Voldemort turned away from the crippled man on the floor in front of him and continued as though he had not just used one of the Unforgivables as a means of correction. "I don't want her to expire in your keep, Lucius. Break her, and send her to me when the time is right."

A smirk twisted his thin lips, accentuating his reptilian face. "The Mudblood will be mine."

***

Hermione Granger was lying in bed. Having been gone for almost seven full years, she didn't believe she could call her childhood room home any longer. She was only here briefly for the Easter break, and although there were only a few months before her N.E.W.T exams, she was relishing the warmth and comfort afforded to her in her single bed. She sighed as she performed a full-body stretch, not wanting to get up, but figuring both of her parents would be in the kitchen by this time of morning. She reluctantly made her way out of her room, groaning heavily.

Stifling a yawn with her hand as it threatened to break past her lips, she greeted both her parents with a good morning nod.

Doctor Dean Granger was sitting at the counter with his morning cup of coffee and a plate of bacon, eggs and toast lying in front of him. He cradled the morning paper as he looked up at his daughter.

"Morning, Muffin," he said, smiling brightly. "How's my girl this morning?"

Hermione shot him a look that clearly spoke of her disapproval at being called a 'girl'. She walked around the counter and gave her mum a kiss on the cheek.

"You will always be my little girl," he continued, beaming at her.

Hermione rolled her eyes before giving him a kiss on the forehead and taking out the stool next to her father, perching herself gingerly upon it.

"Anything interesting in there?" she asked, motioning towards the paper.

"Just the usual drivel," her father responded, his eyes never leaving the page.

Doctor Margaret Granger left the stove and brought Hermione a plate of eggs, bacon and toast.

"Thanks, Mum."

"That's quite all right, dear," Margaret replied. "What do you want to drink?"

"I think I'll just have a glass of orange juice, please."

Walking over to the fridge, she removed the orange juice and a clean glass from the cupboard and proceeded to pour her daughter a glass.

"Thanks," Hermione said absently, as she took the glass and set it carefully next to her plate. She picked up her fork and knife and began placing her eggs on top of her toast.

The family completed their respective meals in silence, each one enjoying the peace of the morning. When Hermione finished, she stood up and made her way over to the sink to clean her dishes.

Hermione looked over to her parents. "I thought I would go for a walk to the park this morning... maybe take a book with me. It's such a lovely day outside, and I know I'm more than ready for my exams." Her gaze darted between her parents, a hopeful sparkle alighting her eyes.

She knew of her parents' determination when it came to being the best, and, of course, that extended to her, as well. She supposed she could not really fault them, but she was so sick of all the talks about 'nothing in life coming for free,' and, 'an hour studying is an hour well spent.' She just wished, for once, to be a normal teenager with friends.

Her mother's expression softened for a moment, her smile altering slightly before it quickly made its re-emergence.

"It's just as well that your father and I have to go by the practise today to check up on a few things," Margaret replied. "I will leave you some money on the counter and perhaps you can go to Tim's for lunch."

"Thanks, Mum, that will be nice," Hermione said, drying her hands on the dish towel, her back to her parents. She couldn't help the huge grin that appeared on her face.

She quickly made her excuses and retreated to the bathroom to prepare for her day. After showering, brushing her teeth and attempting to tame her hair, she hurried off to her bedroom to get dressed.

Flopping down on the bed, still wrapped up in her towel, she contemplated what she was going to do today...her one day off from her revision.

Fifteen minutes later saw Hermione dressed and walking down the stairs. The bounce of innocence was in her step as she made her way into the kitchen. It was truly a stunning day outside, and she didn't want to waste another second indoors.

She grabbed a random novel off the bookcase, along with the money her mother had left her, and made her way into London.

***

Hermione had had a glorious time, a day to herself, spent without worry...a carefree day. She made her way through the park with her book in hand, softly humming to herself. The park was relatively empty as she made her way over to her favourite spot under a giant oak tree, its branches swinging gently in the steady breeze.

Smiling, she sat down at the base of its mammoth trunk and opened her book. The time passed quickly as she devoured the story page by page, and before she knew it, she could hardly make out the words before her in the dimming light. Looking up, Hermione saw that the sun was setting swiftly and got to her feet, brushing off her jeans.

Hermione walked through the park, her book held tightly in one hand. She had a distinct feeling that someone was following her, though she couldn't for the life of her imagine who it could be.

Her grip constricted on the book in her hand when she heard the distinct sound of a footstep behind her. She paused and spun on her heel, nearly losing her balance. Righting herself, she scanned the darkening park. Unable to notice anything out of the ordinary, except for her racing heartbeat and the heat of her blood rushing to her ears, Hermione turned back and quickened her pace.

The park's lamp posts flickered to life, startling her as their eerie glow cast shadows across the pathway.

Hermione felt her heart race, picking up speed as she began to jog toward the street ahead of her. In the surrounding darkness, her hypersensitive ears picked up the resonance of a twig snapping in two.

Her footsteps faltered as she swung around to face the sound, eyes narrowed to slits, desperately trying to pick up on any movement in the shadows to her right. Her heart was thumping in her chest and her breath was coming in shallow gasps as she reached for her wand. She endeavoured to suck in as much oxygen as her lungs would accept before announcing herself to her follower.

"Hello?" she called out breathlessly as she gripped her wand in one hand, the book swinging limply in the other. Silence followed her unanswered call and she felt both irrational and stupid.

Shaking her head, she turned back towards the park's edge, berating herself for behaving in such a foolish manner as she replaced her wand into the side pocket of her jeans.

'Where is everyone?' she thought nervously, as she walked briskly towards the lawn's boundaries.

She was almost to the street when she saw a bright light in her peripheral vision. Her mind had just enough time to comprehend that she had been hit by a spell before she collapsed to the ground allowing the blessed darkness to claim her.

***

Some time later, Hermione slowly awoke to a pounding headache. She grudgingly drew a breath into her mouth, bringing with it the tang of mould and stale air. Opening her eyes, she blinked as she tried to focus on something, anything, in the area around her.

'Gods above, I've gone blind.' Her mind was in a state of panic as she struggled to sit up.

Every muscle in her body screamed out its objection to this simple movement, so she lay back on the hard mattress, a groan escaping her lips as the springs squeaked in protest. She drew a shaky hand up to her head.

She felt a large lump on the back of her head and winced as her fingers explored it, feeling for broken skin. Satisfied when she found none, she ran her fingers gently through her tangled hair in an attempt to relax and work out her location.

She felt the first sign of a shiver as her teeth began to chatter. She glanced down at her body, realising that she was still clothed in the jeans and jumper she had hastily thrown on only that morning. The temperature in this place, wherever she was, was as frigid as an icebox.

Hermione's hand scrambled first to her pocket, looking for her wand...it wasn't there. She began blindly searching for something to cover herself, but to no avail. The only items she encountered were the frame of the small pallet that she lay upon and the emptiness of the air around it. Terror quickly rising within her, she forced herself to think rationally, regardless of the fact that her mind was screeching at her to stand up and do something, as the adrenaline pumped through her body.

Hermione's rational thought process took over, and she lay back down on the rigid mattress. Turning to one side, she curled up into the foetal position, knees tucked up into her chest and hands shoved into her armpits. Her muscles continued to object to any and all movement. Her only response was to tell them to shut up and get warm.

Her mind reeled with the implications of where she might be as she tried to remember what had happened before she had allowed the darkness to take her. She distinctly recalled being in the park and starting her brief walk home when the sun was setting, and then... Hermione screwed up her face and tried to concentrate on the vague memories. All efforts proved futile as her head started to pound anew, and, nauseated, she tried her best to relax.

'Merlin's beard.'

She abruptly shot up into a seated position, ignoring the pounding in her head. In her self imposed pity she had forgotten about her parents.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she muttered quietly to herself, her mind creating grim scenario after grim scenario. As the images grew in their levels of unpleasantness, she sighed out loud and laid her head in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. The quick motion made her feel like her brain was going to explode.

Laying back down and curling up into as small a ball as possible, her mind whirled faster and faster, even as her sobs lessened.

Her guess as to where she was and how she got there was as good as anyone else's.

***

She must have drifted off to sleep, for in the next moment, she was startled into consciousness by the slamming of wood on stone and a bright light that was being shoved roughly under her nose.

Hermione twisted away from the wand light, her mind struggling to come to terms with where she was located. That was when she heard the unmistakable voice of one Lucius Malfoy, and she froze in alarm.

"So nice of you to join me, Mudblood," he spat, as he removed the wand from under her nose and flicked it gracefully at the sconces that adorned the wall. A wane light illuminated the room, painting dancing shadows on the walls with a light breeze that did not belong there.

"Luckily for you, little Mudblood, I am feeling particularly charitable today." He paused and studied her shaking form, his eyes raking slowly over her body in a gesture that made Hermione want to heave as she gathered her courage and shot him a warning glare.

"Welcome to my home," he continued, as he gestured around the cell with widely-stretched arms. "This isn't, by far, the greatest room that my residence has to offer, however, it is all you will see of the Manor for as long as you remain here." He sneered at her as she slowly turned her head toward him, glaring.

Revulsion must have been apparent on her face, for he quickly grabbed her hair in one balled up fist as his wand came to rest at her throat.

"I will break you, Mudblood, have no qualms about it." Lucius paused as a smirk lifted up the corners of his mouth. "However, because of my generous nature," his face twisted in a hideous grin, "I have decided to break you in leisurely. Get my money's worth, or so the old saying goes." Lucius' eyes glinted in the light, giving Hermione the distinct impression that she hadn't truly known evil until this very moment. He bent his head down low, his lips coming to rest beside her ear. She shivered.

"It is only by the grace of the Dark Lord that you are still alive," he whispered.

She could feel his scorching breath on her neck as his tongue slithered out of his mouth, the tip of it meeting the delicate skin of her inner ear. He let it linger for a moment, then licked at her skin more forcefully.

She could smell alcohol on his breath...he was so close to her that she imagined she could hear his heartbeat... or was that hers? She wasn't sure anymore. Time seemed to stand still in that moment.

"The Dark Lord has plans for you," he continued, his breathe hot on her ear. "But that doesn't mean I can't make you beg for death. Though it may not come from my hand, it will come eventually."

He took a step back from her, dropping his wand to his side as he pushed her away from him, into the wall that the pallet was propped up against. She turned around slowly to face him. A smirk was playing at the corners of his lips, and her hand itched to reach up and slap it from his face. Unfortunately, once again, her body would not comply with the wishes of her mind. She wondered if he had cast some spell on her whilst she was asleep. Before she could think more on the matter, his voice cut through her musings.

"Don't even think of harming yourself. These rooms have anti-suicide wards on them. So if you were thinking of taking your own life, think again.

"The only pain you will feel is the pain I wish to bestow upon you," he explained, his eyes fixed firmly on hers.

Hermione's courage faltered and she looked down to the floor.

Lucius chuckled at this. "Now, that is not very Gryffindor of you, is it?"

Lucius let his head fall back as he laughed. Composing himself, his eyes narrowed and Hermione felt hypnotised under his icy gaze as he took a step towards her.

"You think I give a fuck about what you know?" Lucius sneered. All too quickly, he was in her own personal space as he fisted Hermione's hair tightly once more, she whimpered at the abuse. He pulled her close to him, murmuring into her ear.

"You are nothing to me or the Dark Lord. You are lower than a house elf. You have become a tool in winning this war, one that shall see the downfall of Potter, Dumbledore and his beloved Order."

Lucius bit down hard on her ear, drawing blood. She gave a startled cry as he pushed her roughly to the floor, holding onto her ear. He spat on her before turning briskly and exiting the dungeon room, extinguishing the sconces before slamming the cell door shut.

Hermione crawled back up onto the bunk, still clutching her bleeding ear, and let the tears fall freely from her eyes. Harry and Ron will come and save me, she told herself, as she rocked back and forth on the small, inflexible mattress.

Thanking my betas, acciobook7 and bewarethesmirk