This story is set in the Trio's seventh year of Hogwarts, when Harry, Ron and Hermione are seventeen/eighteen. Pretend Deathly Hallows never happened while reading for simplicity's sake.

Like fluff? You're in the wrong place.

Romance? Wrong place.

Comedy? Happy endings? Thrills, spills, laughs and games?

Wrong place.

Parental advisory – Explicit Lyrics.

Warning – not for the faint-hearted. Read at your own risk.

Danger – high voltage.

Want some PWP? Go to the lovely people at adult fan fiction .net. They have an array of suitable titles.

Mind the step.

Hermione is not a kick-ass super-witch. Nor is she weak, feeble and useless. She likes Ron. In a like like way. She lacks confidence. I will not be writing her in any other way.

Keep out of reach of children.

Lucius Malfoy is not a nice man who is simply misunderstood. Nor is he a perverse rapist. Even taking into account the final book, it is my opinion that he is an evil pure-blood supremist, and I have no intention of redeeming him.

Caution – highly flammable.

Nor have I any intention of portraying Ron Weasley as a moron. I adore Ron, so that's that.

Rated M for strong violence, explicit language, and sexual content.

This is not a 'Luciuous kidnaps 'Mione and they have teh smex' story. This is a story about hatred, obsession, fear and prejudice, not about sex and lust.

Well, not just sex and lust.

Warning – Thunderstorms likely. Take cover.

Still interested? Then take my hand and take a walk with me on the dark side.

You might always enjoy it. You won't know unless you try.

Oh, just jump in. I dare you!

'Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste
Brought death into the world, and all our woe,
With loss of Eden.' – John Milton, Paradise Lost

'She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth… "Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased… I've learnt all our set books off by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough – I'm Hermione Granger..."' – J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

'The man who followed could only be Draco's father. He had the same pale, pointed face and identical cold grey eyes… Mr Malfoy's eyes had returned to Hermione, who went slightly pink, but stared determinedly back at him. Harry knew exactly what was making Mr Malfoy's lip curl. The Malfoys prided themselves on being pure-bloods; in other words, they considered anyone of Muggle descent, like Hermione, second class…' – J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets and Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

'DEATH-EATERS AMONG US ONCE MORE!'

'A source from the Ministry of Magic has told the Prophet that there has, one again, been a mass breakout from Azkaban. Our informant, who wishes to remain anonymous, claims that the new security measures put in place after the desertion of the Dementors were not enough to keep six dangerous prisoners locked up.

'They (the ministry) tried almost everything; I lost count of how many new spells they put on the place. They put hundreds of Aurors on guard duty; at one point they even thought of using trolls as security back-up. But nothing could match up to the effectiveness of the Dementors. The prisoners could feel happiness, and so were, I believe, able to keep their heads and plan their escape.'

Our source wishes to make it clear that it is yet unknown how the prisoners escaped. However, they not only claim that all of the six escapees are known Death Eaters, but also that the Ministry is fully aware of the breakout, and that a cover-up is being attempted.

'The Minister doesn't want the public to know that he's failed to protect them. He's built his reputation on being strong, and doesn't want to lose his job after only a year.'

Rufus Scrimgeour has refused to comment on this story.'

I sit back after reading the article, allowing the newspaper to fall onto my desk.

I don't know why this has shocked me. There's been a bigger breakout than this before. And it's not as if it's entirely unexpected. It was always the Dementors that kept the prisoners where they were, not Azkaban itself. I suppose we all knew, deep down, that it was only a matter of time before more prisoners would manage to escape.

All the same, knowing that it was probably going to happen anyway doesn't make things any better. Six more Death-Eaters are on the loose. As if the Order needs more trouble, what with Dumbledore's death and Snape's defection.

I pick up the paper and read the article again, my eyes skimming quickly over the tiny black print.

It doesn't say who has escaped. It could be anyone. All it says is there were six of them.

I put the paper down and walk over to my window. There's a hollow, tickling feeling in the pit of my stomach. It's not hard to feel frightened these days, but the thought of Voldemort's army growing in size just reminds me of how bad things are getting. Ever since Dumbledore's death, I've been wondering whether we really can win this war...

And I'm scared. I don't like admitting it, but it's true. I'm scared for my family, and my friends, and the Order. And for myself.

I reach my window, and find myself frightened of looking out into the street. It's so stupid, I know, but I'm afraid of what I might see. I haven't felt like this since I was little, when I was scared of the dark and I had to sleep with the landing light on. I'd pull my bed-covers up over my head, too frightened to look out into the darkness of my room in case there was something there.

Are you still five years old, Hermione? Look out of the window.

I lean forward nervously, look down into the street, and I see…

Nothing.

Well. I see the dark suburban road, the parked cars, the identical houses, and the moon in the black sky. There's nothing at all unusual out there.

I sigh and lean against the window, pressing my forehead against the cold glass.

Some Gryffindor I am. Too scared to even look out of a bloody window at the street I've lived in since the day I was born!

But… but even as I look every patch of darkness, every shadow, seems to become a Death-Eater's robe.

I bite the inside of my cheek before I turn away from the window and sit down at my desk, pulling one of my legs up and hugging it to myself for comfort.

I'll feel safer at the Burrow.

Yes. The Burrow. It won't just be me and Harry staying there for Bill and Fleur's wedding – there'll be loads of full-grown wizards about, and protecting charms on the building itself, I imagine. It won't just be me on my own, and I won't be putting my parents in danger…

I'm really looking forward to going, actually. The Weasleys are a laugh. Fred and George will be there for the wedding, so it certainly won't be a quiet week. And Mrs Weasley's food is always great. I'll see Harry, and Ginny, and…

And Ron?

I smile to myself and press my forehead to my knee.

I don't know… now that he's done a bit of growing up and Lavender's out of the way, things… could happen.

I hug my knee tighter to my chest. I want to giggle, and I don't know why.

No, actually, I know why all too well.

Get a grip, Hermione!

Maybe, after the wedding…

After the wedding…

Ron and I have told Harry that after the wedding we will go with him, wherever he goes.

That hollow, tickling sensation creeps into my stomach again.

Oh god. I don't want to admit it, but I've no idea how we can help him destroy the Horcruxes. It's just… it's such an overwhelming task to undertake.

I don't really know how I can help him at all, to be honest. Oh, I know I'm good at spells and… and things, but I've never fought in an actual battle before. Unless you count the Department of Mysteries, but I was cursed unconscious for most of the time we were there. A fat lot of help I was then…

And, although I'm ashamed to admit this, I don't want to see Voldemort. It's different for Harry, he's seen him before and knows what he's going to face. I've only ever heard descriptions of him, and they were more than enough for me.

But… we have to go with him. He can't do it on his own, and the three of us have been through too much together to let each other down now.

I shake my head, trying to drive the fear out of me. There's no point in worrying about it now. It's like what Hagrid said once – what's coming will come, and we'll meet it when it does.

I stretch and look at my clock. It's half past midnight. I'm not too tired yet. Perhaps I'll read for an hour and then go to bed. After tomorrow I won't have much time to study, what with one thing or another. And I want to keep up with my education. I know I'm not going back to school this year, but I can teach myself things to a certain extent, and then maybe go back to school to do my N. E. W. T. s when… if… the war ends.

I crack open the Standard Book of Spells Grade 7, and it really does take my mind off of things. Reading always has this effect on me. I escape into the realm of knowledge, my fear being driven out of my body as I focus only on the facts written in front of me. I start to feel almost relaxed…

A small popping noise.

My head shoots up.

What-

Invisible hands lift me up, up, and I'm thrown forward and the wall's flying towards me, ow ow ow!

Small stars burst in front of my eyes as pain smashes through every bone in my body. I can't even scream for shock.

My wand… my wand…

That lone thought pulses through my head. Where is it, where is it?

But the invisible hands which hold me in place are replaced by a pair that are only too real. They're large, and strong.

A man's hands.

I feel his entire body being pressed against mine, pushing me into the wall. His breathing is steady on the back of my neck.

I swallow down, hard, my breath coming in short, terrified gasps.

Who…?

After what seems like an eternity, he answers my unasked question for me.

'Well met, Mudblood.'

Oh god! I recognise that voice. Drawling, quiet, refined. So much like his son's but deeper, older.

He must have been one of the six that escaped from Azkaban.

I start to struggle, but his grip on me is so strong I can barely move.

'Don't be a fool.' The whisper in my ear is laced with amusement. 'You're nothing more than a schoolgirl. Do you really think to emerge triumphant in a fight with a Death-Eater?'

Oh God, how the hell am I going to get out of this?

Keep calm. You need to think.

How the hell can I keep calm? There's a tornado of thoughts whirling through my head.

My wand is on my desk, my head hurts, I'm so scared that tears are starting in my eyes-

I won't cry in front of him. I won't be weak.

I can't breathe with the weight of him pressing me to the wall, my parents are sleeping in the next room-

A wand digs into my ribs. 'That's right. Don't struggle. This whole sorry business will be over and done with much sooner if I have your compliance. Just do as you're told, and I will have no reason to harm you.'

I breathe deeply and try to gulp down the tears of fear that are threatening to leak out on to my cheeks.

I don't know what to do. I just don't know what to do!

'What do you want?' I whisper.

'That's for me to know and for you to find out, Mudblood,' he murmurs in my ear.

I press my lips together.

What does he want me for? He doesn't even know me, not really.

No. But you know Harry, don't you?

I can't think. I'm so scared I can't think. All I know is that I can't move; he's pressing me so hard against the wall my bones are breaking, surely to god, and if I even try to struggle he'll curse me.

Think, for god's sake!

My wand is on my desk… I can see it, it's that close to me… If I could…

But he gets there before me. A pale hand reaches for my wand.

'You won't be needing this, I don't think.'

He closes his hand around my wand and snaps it effortlessly. I watch in horror as he lets the broken pieces of wood fall to the floor. My wand, my beautiful wand…

It's alright, it's just a wand. You can still get out of this, if you can just keep your nerve.

But how can I, if I don't have my wand?

'Now,' he whispers. 'If you would give me your hand, Miss Granger, we can be on our way-'

A creak. The familiar creak of the door to my parents' room.

The body pressing down on mine tenses.

There's a tentative knock at my door.

Oh, no…

'Hermione?'

Mum's voice. It pierces me like a knife to the heart.

The intruder steps back from me and turns me around, pinning me back to the wall by my throat, and for the first time since he entered my room I can see him.

I look up into the pale, pointed face of Lucius Malfoy. It's been a year since I saw him in the Department of Mysteries, but it seems that Azkaban has not changed him. Harry told me that place changes people's looks beyond recognition. Sirius had been a handsome, healthy man until he went in there. But then, the Dementors had deserted Azkaban by the time Lucius was imprisoned. He has some new, deep grooves in each of his cheeks, but this is the only difference I notice in him. His eyes are set in cold, steely determination.

'Hermione?' Mum's voice is shaking. 'What's going on?'

The door handle moves downwards, but the door itself won't open…

Oh God, why did I lock myself in earlier?

Be glad that you did. Do you think she'll last one second if she sets foot in this room?

'Your hand, Miss Granger,' Lucius repeats, holding out his free hand to me. 'Or I shall force you to watch your filthy mother suffer torments… indescribable.'

'Hermione, what's the matter, whose voice is that?'

Mum's getting hysterical. The door handle moves frantically up and down.

I don't get it. Why doesn't he just force me to apparate with him?

Maybe… maybe side-along Apparation isn't possible without some degree of permission from the person you are taking with you.

But I can't give him permission…

'Hermione!'

She'll wake up Dad any minute and get him to break down the door.

I don't have any choice. I can save my parents now, and get myself out of this later.

I take a deep breath and I hold out my hand for him, giving him my compliance to god only knows what.

He smiles triumphantly as he grabs hold of my hand, and suddenly I'm squeezing through a tiny space, and the air is pressing down on me, so hard I can't breathe…

The next thing I know I'm in a place so dark I can't see him next to me. The only thing giving away his presence is the hand closed tightly around my wrist.

If I can get away from him he won't find me easily here.

'Lumos!'

As he mutters the incantation his grip relaxes, just a little.

Now-

I struggle against his grip, twisting and pulling as he tightens his hold once more.

I look around me, trying to make out the surroundings by the light provided by his wand. Trees. Lots of trees. I could get lost among them easily, I just need him to get off me!

I bring his hand up to my mouth and sink my teeth into his fingers. He sucks in his breath and his fingers loosen. I pull away, but my foot slips and I fall to my side.

He's laughing at me.

I scramble up onto my feet, struggling to stay upright in the merciless wet mud underneath me, and I begin to run. I don't care where I go; I've just got to get away from him, because I won't survive if he manages to get me, I know that I won't.

I get about five steps forward, but then an invisible hook pulls me back by the shoulders, and before I know where I am my feet are planted to the floor and I am standing immobile, no matter how hard I try to move.

He steps in front of me, his face furious. 'I don't think so, Mudblood.'

He presses his wand to my forehead, and a white hot pain pulses in repeated waves from the point of his wand right through to the back of my head, like battery acid travelling through my nerve endings. It subsides, then the wave rolls over me again, and I clench my teeth, squeeze my eyes shut, but a cry escapes my lips, hurts, hurts, my head is going to split open, or burst, or-

The pain seeps away.

I open my eyes warily and look up into his sneering face.

'Not pleasant, is it?' he asks while grabbing me by the chin, bringing his face close to mine. I can feel the immobility curse being lifted, though his free hand grasps my arm so tightly I feel as if he's about to snap my bones. His pale face is alight with malicious triumph. 'If you persist in misbehaving you shall find that I can be rather… inventive when it comes to inflicting pain-'

'As if it matters whether I behave or not!' I hiss at him, anger surging through me like a wave of nausea. 'As if you're not going to kill me anyway! Why should I do as you say until then? I'm not about to take orders from a Death-Eater!'

His grip on my chin tightens. 'It is time you learnt your place in the world, girl,' he says, his voice very quiet. 'We all must obey those who are above us-'

'You're not above me-'

'And you will do as I say.' He carries on as if I never interrupted him. 'Because you are worth less than the dirt on my boots. You are a waste of air.' He pauses for effect, and locks his gaze onto mine. 'You are nothing!'

It's like a punch in the stomach, but I won't let him win.

'And you're worth something are you?' I try to keep my voice strong, but it's hard when I'm shaking with rage and fear. 'You think you're superior to me because of your blood's purity. It's pathetic, do you hear me!'

His whole face is darkening with anger now, but I can't stop myself. I'm terrified, and hurting, and angry, and I won't be silenced.

'Do you expect me to cower at your knees and think of you as a powerful man? Well, I can see you for what you are; and all I see is an inbred, bigoted coward.'

He gives a small, mirthless laugh before bringing his wand to my cheek. A sharp, burning pain streaks across my face, but I don't cry out this time. It's only a sting, really, and it's over quickly. The magical equivalent of a slap on the face.

'Have you never, in all of your worthless life, been taught to respect your betters?' he whispers, his features harsh with fury.

It's my turn to laugh. I laugh right in his face before spitting in it.

I'm acting braver than I feel, and as I see the look of rage and disgust on his face, I realise that perhaps I didn't think that one through…

He lets go of my arm to wipe the spittle away from his face, keeping hold of my chin as he does so. I take my chance and wrench myself out of his grasp, but before I can even begin to run he's got hold of me by the arm again. He pulls me close to him, pointing his wand at my throat. His face is so close to mine I can see that he's actually shaking with rage.

'I don't believe you quite understood me. I said I wanted obedience, and for you to know your place. And when I want something, Mudblood, I do make sure that I get it.'

That's when I feel my throat close up.

I gasp… or I try to…

But I don't, because I can't.

I try to breathe, but my windpipe is completely blocked.

Oh God, oh God…

I frantically try to inhale some air, but all I'm doing is heaving pointlessly because there's nothing I can do. My lungs scream for oxygen, my chest feels like it's collapsing, and I go so light-headed that I can't stand up, and I'm falling and please don't let me die! I'm desperately, desperately trying to breathe-

And then my airways open and my lungs are filled so quickly with wonderful, cold air that I begin to cough violently, all the while trying to fill my body with as much oxygen as possible. I cough until my chest hurts and my eyes stream. I'm in such a state that I don't care that I'm kneeling at his feet, clinging to the front of his robes to support me as I gasp for air.

Kneeling at his feet. One of the things you just swore you'd never do…

He waits until my coughing subsides before kicking out at me. He catches me in the chest and I fall onto my side. I lie there massaging my ribs, and the tears that I have been fighting so hard against slowly begin to run down my cheeks.

'Let that be a lesson to you, you useless Muggle,' he says quietly. 'I do not take disrespect lightly. Especially coming from a filthy Mudblood such as yourself. Now get up.' He gives me a small kick in the back, like I'm a dog that won't move when he tells it to. 'I don't deny that crawling on the floor with vermin suits you, but we have an appointment to keep, and we don't want to keep our host waiting. So… if I'm not rushing you…'

I lie still, my mind going into over-drive.

Okay, so I know what he's doing now. He's taking me to someone else. At least now I know…

But… but just him on his own is bad enough, but I don't want to face who-knows how many Death-Eaters!

Or even… he couldn't be taking me to… I don't want to see… him…

'Still insisting on rebellion are we? Very well-'

The invisible pair of hands pull me up again and set me on my feet, before he places an immobilisation curse on me once more.

'Do you believe that what you have experienced so far even comes close to the pain I could inflict upon you?' He walks slowly around me, his voice pulsing with anger. 'You will learn obedience, you little Muggle bitch, or you will discover that I can become rather ill-tempered when provoked.' He stops behind me, and lifts up my hair to whisper in my ear. 'Believe me when I tell you, Miss Granger, that by the end of our time together you will want to obey me. Want to.'

I'll obey you when hell freezes over, you evil-

The immobility curse is lifted and I fall to the ground.

God what's… what's wrong with me? I'm not that weak; I know that I'm not.

I try to pull myself to my feet, and I...

And I can't.

All of my body has gone entirely limp, and I can't move a single muscle.

He crouches down next to me, and pulls one of my arms up and around his neck before picking me up in his arms.

I try to struggle…

But I can't.

All of my body is heavy and lifeless, like every muscle has just stopped working.

I've never felt so… helpless in my entire life.

And I don't want him to bloody carry me! Bloody Malfoy's father? I don't think so.

'Don't go expecting this sort of treatment regularly,' he mutters as he begins to walk through the forest, carrying me with him. 'This is only necessary because you wouldn't come quietly. If me carrying you around is abhorrent to you, then you can only blame yourself, and rest easy with the knowledge that the feeling is entirely mutual.'

My head falls back uncomfortably, and I can't move it forward. The back of my neck burns, and there's nothing I can do to stop it.

He moves quickly, his wand illuminating our path through the trees.

Oh god, I don't want to see the Death-Eaters. I've seen them enough times to last me a life-time. The memories of that night at the Ministry still terrify me. I still have nightmares about that Lestrange woman threatening to torture Ginny when Harry wouldn't give her the prophecy.

It wasn't the threat itself that frightened me the most. It was the way she seemed so… excited as she threatened a fifteen year old girl. There was an inhuman light of joy in her eyes at the prospect.

And then there was the man who hit me with that silent, painful curse. Dolohov, I think his name was. I never saw his face or heard his voice, but I can still remember the feeling of that curse, as if something had sliced through my chest and then… nothing but blackness. My ribs were bruised for weeks afterwards.

And there are others. MacNair, the man that used to kill animals for the Ministry; Greyback, who mutilated Bill. Harry told me that Greyback relishes turning people into werewolves.

And Draco… will Draco be with them?

But all I can hope for is that he won't be taking me to… him. I've never seen him before, and I want to keep it that way. The way that Harry described him was enough to give me nightmares; I don't know whether I can handle actually seeing him…

In what seems like no time at all we arrive outside a derelict old shack in a part of the woods so dense that I cannot see the sky.

He puts me down on the floor. My head rolls lifelessly to the side, and I can see him pull a long, thin, silver key out of his robes, which he uses to unlock the door to the hut. The door clicks open, and he bends down to pick me up again and carries me into the shack.

I look around as far as I can without the ability to move my head. The interior of the place looks like I would expect it to look from the outside of it; neglected, filthy and dark. He lays me on the floor again, and this time my head rolls away from him and I can't see what he's doing. He hasn't said a word to me since he began to carry me.

Why has he bought me here? What would they need me for? To give information about the order? Information on Harry?

Do they just want to punish me for being Muggle born? Or do they want to use me to get to my friends?

I don't know how these people's minds work; do they kill for business or for pleasure?

Perhaps they're not going to kill you. Who knows how these people get their kicks?

I would shudder if I could. I don't want to think about… about that.

But… but there have been stories. Horror stories about what captives of the Death Eaters have been through.

And witches… the stories about witches that have been captured contain their own world of horror.

I close my eyes. I can't think about that. I've got to distract myself.

He's taking his time in here. I wish I could see what he's doing.

What are my parents going to do when they finally get into my room and they see that I'm gone? I can't bear the thought of how upset they'll be, and how frightened…

They'll contact the Order. I told them that they should let the Order know if I go missing before they inform the police. I've taught them how to use an owl to contact them in case of an emergency. The Order will find me, they'll save me-

How? You don't even know where you are, how are they going to know where to find you?

The sick, empty sensation of hopelessness washes over me.

A noise fills the room. It's like stone grinding against stone. When it stops he walks over to lift me up again, and carries me down what seems to be a large stone staircase going down into the floor. I'm sure it wasn't there when we first came in. As we go down the stairs the hole we entered through closes in above us. Wherever we're going I'm not going to be able to escape easily.

If you can escape…

Down, down, through what seems to be a long, narrow cave. We keep going for ages and ages. He doesn't say anything to me. All I can hear is his light breathing, and my own.

I don't know how I feel about this. I don't want him to talk to me, and even if I did I don't think I'd be able to answer him in my current state.

But still… the silence has given me too much time to think about what's going to happen to me.

There's nothing I can do to save myself. I'm completely alone. I've always had Harry, or Ron, or somebody with me whenever I've been in danger…

Harry and Ron. What are they going to do when I don't turn up at the Burrow tomorrow?

Oh God, Bill and Fleur's wedding. It'll be ruined!

We come to what looks like a dead end, and he sets me down on the cold, damp floor. My head rolls to the side and I can see him as he shakes back his elegant sleeve, exposing the Dark Mark on his arm. He presses the tattooed skin to the wall of the tunnel, and the dead end melts away to reveal the way ahead. He picks me up again and carries me through the passageway, and I hear rather than see the way close up again behind us.

I'm completely and utterly trapped.

A lone tear escapes from the corner of my eye and rolls down my face.

He lays me down on the floor, my head facing upwards. We must be quite far underground; the ceiling of this place is very high.

His face moves above mine. It's half in shadow, but I can see the expression of gloating written there as clear as day.

'You know, it is tempting to keep you like this,' he murmurs. He picks up one of my arms and lets it drop again. 'So docile, so obedient.' He moves his face yet closer to mine. It's horribly contorted by shadow. 'So completely and utterly submissive.'

Oh God, he wouldn't… oh no, please…

'However.' His voice is suddenly cool and clipped once again. He stands up and I can't see him anymore. 'I don't want to touch you any more than I have to. It's disgusting that I should have to carry a Mudblood around.'

I'm partly relieved by that statement, but at the same time enraged by it. It's a peculiar feeling.

He gives me another small kick. 'Get up.'

A shiver runs through me. I think… I think I can move again.

I slowly pull myself up onto my feet. My legs shake under me like jelly, and all the blood rushes to my head I stand up fully, swaying slightly on the spot.

He's standing in front of me, a small, patronising smile on his face. He leans forward and pats me on the cheek as if I'm a child.

'Good girl.'

He steps back and offers me his arm, his eyebrows raised in a mocking challenge.

I just stare back at him. I won't let him toy with me.

'What did I tell you about obedience, Mudblood?'

Don't let him beat you, Hermione.

I take a deep breath. I'm not a Gryffindor for nothing.

'You told me that we all have to obey those who are above us. You told me that you are above me, and therefore I have to do as you say.'

He smiles evilly at me. 'Well, my son always told me you were a know-it-all, but now I realise that you are simply a fast learner-'

'I am only a fast learner of facts,' I say, straightening myself up in an attempt to steel my nerve. 'But I've never been one to believe anything I'm told without question. And what you told me was a blatant lie. So, you see, I won't obey you. I'll die first.'

His cold eyes narrow in anger. He flicks his wand upwards, and my arm is twisted mercilessly up my back. I sink my teeth into my lip to stop myself from yelling in agony.

'You'll die first, will you?' He's standing over me, watching me struggle against the pain. 'I've lost count of the number of fully grown wizards who have told me that they'd die before they'll do as I ask. And believe me when I say that it doesn't take me long to have them screaming for mercy, begging me on their knees to let them live.' He flicks his wand again, and my arm is released. I fall to the ground in sheer relief, and he laughs quietly. 'Something tells me that you won't be any different, Mudblood.'

I lie still, just for a moment, trying to get my breath back.

Perhaps if I just keep quiet, he won't hurt me. Why antagonise him further?

Where's your courage, Hermione? You're a Gryffindor, remember?

I clench my jaw, and begin to push myself up from the ground, allowing that thought to hook into me and pull me upwards.

'I'll never give you that satisfaction.' I stand up fully, and look him straight in the eye. 'You murderous bastard!'

He slaps me hard across the face with the back of his hand. No wands this time.

My head snaps back with the blow and I taste blood in my mouth. I rub at my cheek, and when I look back at him I see pure hatred etched all over his face.

For a few moments we just look at each other. He's breathing heavily, as if he's been running.

I've never had anyone look at me like… like that before. I've never had someone hate me so much when they didn't know me at all. People have called me Mudblood, but usually I've been disliked primarily for being clever, or bossy, or a friend of Harry's. Being Muggle-born is just another insult they can hurl at me.

But with Lucius Malfoy, I can see pure hate in his eyes, and it's all because of something I am, not something I've done.

And I realise then that there's nothing I'll ever be able to do to change that. How could I change what I am, or apologise for it, even if I wanted to?

Well, if he hates me then the feeling is entirely reciprocated. I hate him. I hate him for what he has done, and I hate him for what he is; a prejudiced, unfeeling sadist.

Gradually he seems to regain his control. His breathing slows and his face grows calm once more.

'It seems strange to me that you have not asked me where we are,' he says, his voice quietly controlled. 'I would have thought that your irritating know-it-all attitude would have led to some curiosity about where I have brought you.'

He grips me by the shoulders and turns me around, showing me where we are.

It's not the hall itself that terrifies me. It looks almost like what I imagined the Chamber of Secrets to look like when Harry told me about it – green flamed torches, black stone walls, pillars entwined with stone serpents. No, it's the throne at the head of the hall that scares me. An empty throne with a huge stone snake rearing up behind it.

It's so dark it takes me a few seconds to realise there are people moving along the hall towards us. People in black robes.

My stomach knots with fear, and I start shaking uncontrollably. I can't… oh god, I can't…

'You are fortunate that our host appears to be otherwise engaged,' Lucius murmurs in my ear. 'Were he here I am sure he would be only too pleased to teach you a few lessons in respect and obedience. But don't fret. Soon, very soon, you shall come back here and meet him, and I'm sure you shall find him most… accommodating.'

I must be in the Death-Eaters' headquarters.

And although I don't know why I've been brought here, or what they are going to do to me, or who I am going to see, one thing is clear…

I'm never going to get out of this place!

The dark figures are getting closer. One of them calls over to us. His voice is deep, with a slight Russian accent; 'He's not here Lucius, but he wants to see her when he gets back. He says to put her away for now.'

He? Who? Not… no… I CAN'T FACE… HIM!

Lucius' hands have left my shoulders-

'Stupefy!'

I feel the rush of the spell before it hits me, and then…

Darkness.