The Burrow was in an uproar. Remus had relayed what happened to Mrs. Weasley while Tonks cleaned his face, mending his broken nose and staunching the bleeding.
Mrs. Weasley immediately summoned Dumbledore and soon after nearly every Order member who could come had filled the kitchen.
"Are you sure they were Death Eaters, Remus?" Minerva McGonagall asked.
"Yes, Minerva," Remus replied, exasperated. "Who else could it have been?"
McGongall sighed, covering her mouth with her hand and closing her eyes.
Dumbledore stood quietly in the corner of the kitchen, observing.
"I shouldn't have told her she could come," Remus muttered, shaking his head.
"It's not your fault, Remus," Dumbledore said quietly. All eyes turned to him.
"Hermione has information that Voldemort wants. He'll want to kill her, but he won't until he gets what he wants. And Hermione isn't going to give in that easily. We have time."
"To do what?" Mrs. Weasley asked, her eyes shining with tears.
"To find out where she is and figure out how to save her."
The arms released their vise like grip and Hermione fell to the floor, gasping as she landed hard on her hip.
"Get up," a voice hissed. Hermione stiffened, her breath hitching in her throat.
"Get up!"
Hermione was yanked roughly to her feet and made to face Voldemort.
Fear made Hermione break into a cold sweat and she shivered as Voldemort stared at her; she finally had to look away, but the new sight wasn't any better. Lucius Malfoy stared back at her, his grey eyes cold. There was something else though, something Hermione didn't like. She shivered again and dropped her gaze to the floor.
"Where is Severus Snape?"
Hermione looked up, surprised. She had anticipated the question, but not so bluntly.
"The faster you tell me, the quicker, and less painful, your death."
Hermione shook her head. "I won't tell you."
The Death Eater who held her moved and Hermione felt his hand move up her back and rest on her neck.
Voldemort's eyes narrowed, his nostrils flaring.
"You won't tell me? Silence will do you no good, Miss Granger."
Hermione maintained her resolve. "I'm not going to tell you."
The hand on her neck grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled hard. Hermione cried out, tears falling from her eyes, but she refused to say any more.
"Very well. I can be patient." Voldemort waved his hand and Hermione's captor began to walk, dragging her with him. They left the large room, turning in to a long, narrow hallway.
They passed a series of large iron doors before finally stopping at one. The man opened the heavy door with one hand and shoved Hermione inside with his other. She stumbled forward and turned in time to see another familiar pair of eyes, so much like his father's, gazing at her just before the door swung shut.
Hermione stared at the door for a moment, then turned to look around the room.
Sunlight filtered through a window set high in the wall, close to the ceiling. A metal slab was attached to the wall, a bed with a thin mattress, and a toilet was in a corner, on the same wall as the door. Both it and the bed seemed newer than the rest of the room; this was obviously not the room's original purpose, although Hermione couldn't have said what it was.
She stood in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do.
Finally she walked over and sat on the bed, leaning against the wall, her arms wrapped around her torso. All she could do was wait.
Night came, the sunlight replaced by moonlight. Hermione had continually heard footsteps in the hallway, but the door hadn't opened.
Her eyelids drooped and she shook her head sharply. She was afraid to sleep for fear of what might happen to her if she did.
The creak of the door opened startled her out of a doze and she moved off the bed, standing as someone entered the room.
He stepped forward into the moonlight and Hermione recognized Lucius Malfoy.
"What do you want?" Hermione murmured. Lucius smirked.
"You know what I want."
Hermione shook her head. "I'm not telling you."
Lucius sighed, stepping towards Hermione. She took a step back, at the same time moving to the side to try and get around Lucius.
"It'll be easier for all concerned if you just tell us where he is."
Hermione shook her head again. "There's nothing you can do to make me tell you anything."
Hermione tried to step around Lucius but his hand shot out, gripping her upper arm tightly.
"Nothing?"
"Let me go," Hermione said firmly, trying to pull away.
"You can't even begin to imagine what we can do to you," Lucius hissed in her ear. Hermione turned her head away, revulsion making her skin crawl.
"Nothing you can do will make me talk."
Lucius nodded as if accepting this, then flung Hermione away from him with enough force to make it hurt when she hit the wall.
He followed her, turning her around and using his body to press her against the wall. One hand encircled her neck and the other slid down her chest, over her breast, and down her stomach to untuck her shirt.
"You see, Hermione-"
"Don't-"
Lucius squeezed, cutting Hermione's words off. The fingers of his other hand slipped beneath the waistbad of her skirt and she squirmed, unable to move away.
"You see, Hermione," he began again, "there's so many ways to make a person talk. We've tried them all, or at least most of them, but never on one person." He wedged his knee between her thighs. "Are you aiming to be the first?"
His free hand moved back to the top of her shirt and he brought it down, popping the buttons from her shirt.
His hand lingered on her stomach, stroking the skin, then balled into a fist and punched.
Hermione gasped, doubling over. Lucius used this movement to shove Hermione to the floor; she fell to her hands and knees, wincing at the pain.
Lucius used his foot to push Hermione onto her side, then kicked her, another blow to the stomach.
He kneeled beside her, reaching to push her hair from her face. She jerked away from his touch.
"Ready to talk?" he asked softly. Hermione glared at him, eyes shining in the moonlight.
"Go to hell," she whispered harshly. Lucius shook his head and straightened. He seemed to think for a minute, then reached down and grabbed a handful of Hermione's hair, pulling her to her feet. She screamed, clawing at his arm.
He moved his hand from her hair to her chin, holding her so she was forced to look at him.
"Why are you protecting him?" Lucius asked. "He'd give you up in a heartbeat if he were in your position."
"He wouldn't."
"You think you know him."
"I do. Better than you."
Lucius's hand, like lightning, moved from Hermione's chin and connected with her cheek. The smack resonated in the room and Lucius grabbed Hermione, preventing her from falling as she stumbled back. He saw, with satisfaction, the glint of blood on her lip.
"Still won't talk?"
Hermione remained silent and Lucius reached down, unbuttoning and unzipping her denim skirt. He shoved her back to the floor, yanking her skirt from her body.
"Last chance."
Hermione lay still, knowing what was going to happen, knowing she couldn't stop it. She began to cry as she heard his zipper and covered her face with her hands as he crouched over her, pulling her underwear down.
He forced himself inside her, going too deep, pushing too hard; Hermione cried out but it was the only sound she made.
He stood when he finished, pointing his wand at her abdomen and performing a contraceptive charm.
"Still won't talk?"
Hermione closed her eyes, pulling her legs up.
"Go away," she whispered.
Lucius shook his head again and left the room, the door slamming heavily behind him.
Hermione sat up, reaching for her underwear. She stood, pulling them on and walked over to the bed. With trembling hands she pulled her shirt closed and lay on the bed, curling into a ball, her eyes on the door.
She had meant what she said. No matter what they did to her, she would never tell them anything about Severus.
Days passed and Hermione was left alone, the door only opening when food was left. She ate some of it, not worried about being poisoned or even being given Veritaserum.
They wouldn't kill her until they got what they wanted, and she was the only person on the planet who knew where Severus was. If they killed her, they would never know. It was a small comfort, because she also knew they would do everything just short of killing her to get what they wanted.
Her first week ended, marked out with a piece of rock she'd found on the otherwise surprisingly clean floor.
Hermione lay on her bed, feeling drowsy. She rubbed a button from her shirt between her fingers, staring idly at the ceiling.
Sighing she let her arm fall to her side and closed her eyes. Sleep came easily.
She awoke abruptly some time later as she fell to the floor. She wondered briefly if she'd rolled out of bed but changed her mind when a hand closed around her throat and she was pulled to her feet.
She didn't know this man, not that it mattered. He was only here to hurt her.
"I'm not going to tell you anything," Hermione muttered as she lay on the floor an hour or so later, holding her arm tight against her chest.
"You know, we don't have to hurt you to make you talk," the man said, heading for the door.
Hermione pushed herself to her feet.
"If you touch any of my friends or their families, I still won't tell you. You'd just be wasting your time."
The man didn't answer, just healed Hermione's shoulder before striding from the room.
Herimione moved back to the bed, pulling her shirt closed around her and sitting, pressing her back to the wall.
She made another mark as she watched the sun rise.
She could hear the men in the hall sometimes, talking as they passed, rarely laughing. She picked up snatches of their conversations. Sometimes they talked about Harry, sometimes about her, always in anxious or agitated tones.
A month into her captivity, the door opened and in walked someone who surprised Hermione. She didn't know his name but she recognized his face: he'd gone to Hogwarts with her.
She stood, moving away from the bed as he walked towards her.
"Don't you remember me?"
"I do, just not your name. Not that I care."
Hermione continued to circle around him, keeping her distance. He sighed and pulled out his wand, blasting her into the far wall.
Hermione slumped to the floor, dazed, wincing as she tried to sit up.
Hands grabbed her wrists and she shrieked, pushing herself against the wall, almost as if she thought she could disappear into it if she tried hard enough.
She didn't want this. She hadn't wanted it with Lucius either, but this was different, it was too familiar. She'd sat next to him in classes, been partnered with him in Potions.
He sat on her legs, slowing her struggles. He pulled her forward, away from the wall, trying to lay her on the floor.
Hermione shrieked again and managed to free one of her hands, striking out and connecting with the boy's cheek.
He sat back for a moment, then retaliated, backhanding Hermione so hard the bruise formed almost immediately. He seized Hermione's wrist, pinning it to the floor, and started to lean down.
Hermione screamed, a sound full of rage, and her former classmate suddenly flew off her, landing halfway across the room.
Hermione sat up, startled but relieved that he was off her. The relief was short-lived though. She had nowhere to go and nobody to help her.
The boy stood, glaring at Hermione.
"You're gonna regret that."
Hermione already did.
She awoke hours later, in more pain than she'd ever been in, naked on the floor.
She sat up, gasping at the pain, and looked around for her clothes. She found her bra and shirt, shredded beyond repair. Her shirt and panties were missing. Her skirt would've been too difficult to rip, the denim too thick. She could only imagine why her panties were missing.
The door opened and Hermione jumped, feeling tears rising in her eyes.
"Shh," a voice said softly. A figure entered the room holding a lantern and a box. Hermione was surprised to see it was a woman, but she was still wary, and moved away as she approached.
"I'm not here to hurt you." The woman kneeled beside Hermione, turning the lantern to its full power.
The woman wrapped a blanket around Hermione's shoulders and Hermione saw brown eyes, full of warmth towards Hermione but also showing a certain detachment.
"Who are you?" Hermione murmured. The woman smiled.
"It's not important." She set about cleaning Hermione's face.
"They don't allow me a wand, so I can't heal these wounds as well as I'd like." She shook her head. "He wasn't supposed to hurt you like this. He wasn't supposed to hurt you at all."
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, wincing as the woman placed a bandage on a large cut on her forehead.
"He's new. The new ones aren't allowed to see you."
The woman carefully pushed the blanket from Hermione's shoulders, glancing up as Hermione flinched.
"I'm sorry," the woman said gently. "If you don't want-"
Hermione shook her head. "No. It's okay."
The woman continued cleaning, frowning.
"God, what did he do to you?"
Hermione looked down, her mouth falling open. Her torso was covered in bruises and she only now realized where the pain was coming from.
"It's a wonder he didn't kill you," the woman murmured, delicately smearing a cream over every inch of Hermione's torso. Hermione recognized it as the same cream Severus had used when Draco had hit her.
"While that does its thing, may I?" The woman gestured down and Hermione nodded, laying back slowly. She covered her eyes with her arm as the woman began to carefully clean Hermione's legs.
"Okay," the woman said when she'd finished. Hermione sat up and the woman began wiping the cream from Hermione's body.
"You okay?"
Hermione nodded, pulling the blanket tightly around herself.
"Why are you doing this?"
"He was very angry when he found out what happened. Furious, really. He wants to get the information from you, but he doesn't want you dead. At least not yet. He knows this kind of violence won't work."
"But who are you? I've never seen you before."
The woman shrugged, rifling through the box. She handed Hermione some clothes and stood.
"Will I see you again?" Hermione asked. The woman smiled.
"For your sake, I hope not." She handed Hermione a jug of water and then left, closing the door as quietly as she could.
Hermione stood and dressed, the clean feel of the clothes a luxury to her still sore body.
She drank deeply from the jug and carried it and the blanket over to the bed. She folded the blanket until it was small enough for a pillow and lay down, her new pillow the softest thing she'd felt in a month, and fell asleep.
Her sleep was unbroken and when she awoke, sunlight was streaming through the small window.
She got out of bed, stretching carefully. The pain had lessened considerably and she wondered if there was something in the water.
Curious, she walked over to stand beneath the window. She could see the sky if she pressed herself against the wall and over the course of two hours she figured it must be morning by watching the sun's movement through the sky. This meant she was facing east. She had no idea if this meant anything, but she kept it in mind anyway.
She backed away to the other wall. From here she could see only grass.
Slowly she began to walk forward, stopping when the grass stopped and looked at where she was in the room. Almost halfway.
Where the grass stopped, trees began and as before, she could only see the sky if she was right against the wall.
She spent the next few hours hovering below the window, changing angles, trying to see if there were any clues to her location.
She stopped when it became too dark to see and made her way back to her bed.
The door opened after the sun fully set and her dinner was slid in. She waited until the door closed before retrieving the tray.
Another month passed. Men occasionally came to try and talk her into telling what she knew. Most of them used violence, although none used rape.
Hermione maintained her silence though. She was no closer to telling them anything.
She was wary when someone new entered her room one afternoon, although she did recognize this one.
Bellatrix Lestrange closed the door and started towards Hermione, who was sitting on her bed.
"All I want to do is talk."
"Forgive me if I don't trust your word," Hermione said scornfully.
Bellatrix sat beside her on the bed and Hermione started to get up. Bellatrix grabbed her arm and yanked her back; Hermione banged her head on the wall and cried out, trying to pull her arm from Bellatrix's grasp. The other woman's grip tightened and Hermione scowled.
"What do you want?"
"You know what I want. Don't play dumb."
Hermione frowned and didn't respond.
"Just tell me your secret. The sooner you do, the easier your death."
Hermione scoffed. "So long as I don't tell you, I stay alive. I much prefer that."
"I wouldn't count on that," Bellatrix said softly. Hermione looked over at her.
"What do you mean?"
"We have another source."
Hermione laughed out loud. "That's impossible and absurd."
"Why is that?"
"Because if you really had another source, I wouldn't be here or I'd be dead by now."
"And why is it impossible?"
Hermione looked squarely at Bellatrix. "Because it is."
"Who else was there?"
Hermione sighed, looking away. "Who else was where?"
Bellatrix squeezed Hermione's arm, her nails digging into the skin, making Hermione wince.
"Stop playing games with me," Bellatrix hissed.
"I have nothing to say to you."
"Where is he? Is he still in Europe?" Bellatrix watched Hermione closely. "Asia? America?"
Hermione kept her face passive and Bellatrix sighed, disgusted.
"I'm not going to tell you anything. As I've already told the rest of you."
Bellatrix released Hermione's arm and stood.
"We will get it out of you."
"Good luck with that."
Bellatrix left the room, allowing the door to slam behind her.
A few days after Bellatrix's visit another Death Eater entered the room. Hermione tensed but he didn't approach.
"He wants to see you."
Hermione frowned, not moving.
"Come on," he said impatiently, stepping towards her.
Hermione moved off the bed and walked over to the man. He grabbed her arm and led her from the room.
They walked in silence, passing many more doors that probably led to more rooms like Hermione's.
They eventually entered a room at the end of the hallway. The man shoved Hermione to her knees on the floor and she winced as she heard a familiar voice dismiss him.
"You may stand."
Hermione did so, rubbing her sore knees. She met Voldemort's eyes and was almost tempted to look away, but resisted the urge.
"I hear you've been maintaining a rather stoic code of silence, Miss Granger."
Hermione remained silent and unmoving.
"You've been here for what, over two months now? And you've yet to crack. Others would've spilled their secrets long ago. But not you."
Voldemort stared at Hermione for a moment.
"Why are you protecting him?"
"Because I love him," Hermione murmured.
Voldemort frowned at this. "You love him?"
"You of all people should know how powerful love is."
"And because you love him, you'd rather be a prisoner than give up his location."
"Anything to keep him safe."
Voldemort nodded, steepling his long fingers and peering over them at Hermione.
He opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted as the door opened and a different Death Eater entered.
"Excuse me, my Lord," he murmured as he walked over to Voldemort. Leaning, he whispered into his master's ear. The more he talked, the happier Voldemort seemed to become.
"Excellent news. Stay, I'll need you to escort Miss Granger back to her room."
The man nodded and took Hermione's arm in his grasp.
"But before you go." Voldemort looked at Hermione. "Your friends are dead."
Hermione blinked. "What?"
"It is news I've just received."
Hermione looked up at the man holding her, then back at Voldemort.
"No. I don't believe you."
"It's true. My men have attacked the Weasley home. Have burned it to the ground. I understand the entire family was inside, including Potter and a fair number of Order members."
"No," Hermione murmured, tears filling her eyes.
"There's no one left to save you now," Voldemort called as the man dragged Hermione from the room.
"You bastard!" Hermione screamed, struggling against the man's grip. He held her tightly as he brought her back to her room.
He pushed her inside, slamming the door.
Hermione rubbed her arm, tears streaming down her face.
They couldn't be dead. He had to be lying.
"But what if he's not?" Hermione whispered to herself as she sat on her bed.
If Voldemort was telling the truth, then he was right. There was no one left to save her now.