A Classic Tale of True Love and High Adventure

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"Hermione, breakfast's ready."

It was early, too early in Hermione's mind. She had only truly fallen asleep around dawn and was now being woken from her slumber at the horridly early hour of eight in the morning. Her head ached from her troubled night and the glaring light streaming through her window was only increasing the pain. All she wanted to do was go back to sleep.

"Hermione! Are you up?" Her father's voice echoed through the halls of their house.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm up," she yelled. Groggily she rose and stumbled to the bathroom, irritated that her sleep had been cut short.

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"Morning, father," Hermione mumbled as she entered the kitchen. "It smells wonderful." Still half asleep, Hermione took her seat at the sturdy kitchen table across from her father and began to pile food on her plate.

They ate breakfast in a comfortable silence, interrupted by the jarring sound of the telephone from the back hall. "I'll get it," Hermione's father said, motioning for her to finish her food.

A few minutes later, Hermione's father returned to the table, a stony look about his face. "That was your mother. She wants you to visit her this week."

"Dad," Hermione protested, too tired to want to deal with the never ending games her mother played. "Can't we talk about this later?"

"I suppose, but I want you to think about spending more time with her. She misses you."

"That may be so, but I need some time. It's too early to talk about this. Please, give me a bit." Hermione roughly pushed herself away from the table and jogged up to her room lost in thought.

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Hermione,

I'm meeting Harry in Diagon Alley a day before Phlegm and Bill's wedding. Will you meet us there? I can't wait to see your pretty face. The three of us can stay at the Burrow until after the wedding. Then we will begin our 'journey.' Owl me back soon. I miss you a lot.
With love,
Ron

Hermione scowled at the note that Ron had sent her. It was nice; simple and sweet, but as she had told her father, it was way too early to deal with matters of this type. The thought of Ron bugged her as well. She'd thought that she'd liked him in a special way, but as the days of her vacation wore on, she was beginning to realize he was more like a brother than anything else and any love she felt for him was purely nonromantic. He was just so awkward and young; so immature. He was a great friend, but she wanted something more in a romantic relationship than an overgrown schoolboy.

'I'll deal with him when I need to,' she thought unhappily to herself. Her summer was not shaping up the way she had expected and was more than ready to just begin her journey with her two best friends to destroy Voldemort. She'd deal with the 'complications' later: her mother and Ron included.

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The pain in her head would not leave her. What had been a small headache early in the day had progressed to a throbbing migraine by lunch. Hermione was sick of it and wanted to go to sleep. However, every time she lay down, nausea swept over her. She'd gone out for lunch with her mother, deciding to meet at their favorite restaurant. Her mother was late, as usual, and the sounds of the crowded establishment had done nothing to assuage her fierce headache. Once her mother finally showed up, Hermione was berated with useless questions and degrading comments.

Hermione had made up an excuse to leave early, claiming she had to meet some friends to work on a summer project. Her mother had bought it and now Hermione was slowly driving herself back to her house, massaging her hot brow. She wasn't sure how she felt about her mother at the moment, but she was too tired and grumpy to ponder their awkward relationship.

It was only two when she pulled into her driveway so she knew she'd have the house to herself for several more hours until her father returned from work. Her trip to her room was slow, made so by her headache. In her room, she gratefully collapsed on her bed, exhausted, and tried to fight down the rising urge in her stomach to bring up her lunch.

Rolling over, she punched the remote control lying on her bed and let the music from her stereo pour over her. Hermione closed her eyes and willed herself to go to sleep.

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She woke up to rough hands grabbing her. Opening her mouth to scream, Hermione felt a rough cloth being shoved into her mouth and heard a quiet male voice mutter, "Silencio."

Fighting with all her strength, Hermione tried to get a look at her attackers. She glimpsed several people in black robes and masked faces. She saw it was still afternoon out her window and was disheartened to realize no one was home but her.

"Quick, bind her hands and feet."

Hermione knew that voice. Shocked, she looked to the closest of the Death Eaters. 'Malfoy?' she thought, panicked. 'What the hell is he doing in my house and how the hell am I going to escape?' Her thoughts were cut short when she blacked out from a blow to her head from one of the Death Eaters.

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Hermione opened her eyes cautiously. She was lying on the floor in a dark and dank room, illuminated only by a solitary lamp hanging in the far corner of the dusty cubicle. The walls were solid stone, rough and cold to the touch. The door was made of sturdy wood that had darkened with age. There were no windows. The only piece of furniture in the small space was a wooden chair, sitting in the corner opposite the lamp.

A clanking noise at the door and the scrapings of locks caused Hermione to bolt into action. Quickly she sat up. She crawled to the closest wall so she'd have something at her back and leaned her frame against the solid barrier.

The door opened and Draco Malfoy sauntered in followed by Lucius Malfoy, each complete with their trademark sneer. "Good, the mudblood is up," Lucius drawled. He turned to Draco and nodded.

Draco strode over to Hermione and grabbed her roughly by one arm. He yanked her up and growled, "Come on, mudblood. I don't have all day."

"I'm not going anywhere with you, Malfoy," Hermione spat, fully aware that at some point someone had lifted the silencing spell that had been placed on her. "Don't touch me you ferret."

Draco shoved Hermione against the wall, knocking her already sore head into the solid stone. "Shut the fuck up, mudblood," Draco breathed. "I do not take orders from trash." He twisted her arm so that she had no choice but to do his bidding. "Now walk." Hermione refused to move. "I'm warning you, mudblood. If you know what's best for you, you will walk. NOW!"

With that he began dragging Hermione towards the door. Arm twisted in pain, Hermione backed down and allowed herself to be ushered from the room. They walked through the dungeons' ill lit passageways for several minutes and finally came to a narrow flight of stairs.

Lucius paused and turned to Draco. "Take her to her room, Draco. You are in charge of her until the Dark Lord says differently. Make sure she does not escape." Twitching his robes straight, he turned away from the stairs towards the passage they had just come down and walked away.

Hermione was tired and sore. Exhausted before she was even captured, she now felt faint and ready to let the blackness that had been poking at her mind consume her. Draco's former death grip was now just a tight clutch on her sleeve. He was not paying her any attention and did not notice when she began blinking rapidly or gasping for breath. He didn't look at her until he felt the resistance of the sleeve clutched in his fist increase from a slight hold to full support of Hermione's weight.

She glanced up at him weakly, not wanting Draco to see her in such a shameful state. However hard she attempted to cling to her consciousness, blackness gripped her and she knew no more.

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A wet and cool feeling across her forehead caused Hermione to stir. "Come on, Granger," a hushed voice urged. "It's time to wake up."

Hermione moaned and let her hands fly to her forehead. Ferociously she began rubbing her temples, desperate to alleviate the pounding in her head. Lying on her stomach, Hermione felt cool hands begin to massage her neck. She leaned into the coolness, welcoming the slight relief it provided.

"Granger," the voice began, this time more deliberately. "Wake up."

Hermione wrenched her eyes open forcefully, determined to glare at the young man before her. It came off more as a feeble glance and she sat back dejectedly. Her head ached fiercely and she felt waves of nausea swarming over her.

"Malfoy, what the hell do you want?" she choked out, not wanting to deal with the problem before her.

"Look, Granger, I don't want to be here any more than you but you need to get up. Voldemort doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Hermione stared at him before getting the courage to voice her thoughts. "You called him 'Voldemort,' not 'the Dark Lord.' Why?"

"Granger, not everything is what it seems. I'll be back in five minutes for you. Now hurry up." He briskly walked out of the room, leaving a confused Hermione alone.

Only then did Hermione take a look at her surroundings. She was no longer in a dungeon, but rather, in a simple room. A wooden bed with a thin mattress upon which Hermione was laying stood against the wall opposite the door from which Malfoy had exited. Staring at the stone walls the full meaning of Malfoy's words hit her. Voldemort doesn't like to be kept waiting. 'What the hell?' she thought panicked. 'I'm going to have to face Voldemort.'

She shakily rose and went to the sink in the corner of her room. Hermione splashed cool water onto her face and dried her hands with a towel. Squaring her shoulders she sat back upon her bed to wait for Malfoy.

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The sudden scrapings at her door made her start. Hermione gracefully stood, determined to meet her doom with pride. As promised, Ferret Boy, as Hermione had affectionately termed him, had come to collect her.

"Quit smirking, Ferret," she scolded. "Your face might just freeze that way."

"Sod off, mudblood. We'll just see how cocky you are by the end of today."

"What? 'Mudblood' is the best you can come up with?" Hermione taunted. "My, my, my; you're going to have to work on that."

"I said sod off," Draco said, pushing her against the doorframe. His face was flushed with anger. "Now get walking." Forcefully, he shoved her out of the room.

Hermione turned to him, fearful yet amused. "In case you have forgotten, I've never been here before. I can't exactly lead," she pointed out in a casual voice.

"We'll see about that," Draco sneered before grabbing her arm and shoving her forward.

Hermione decided to back down momentarily for she knew if it came to a battle of strength, Draco would surely win. Head down, she allowed herself to be steered through the corridors, becoming lost in the number of turns they took.

They had passed several hooded figures which made Hermione wonder how heavily populated the building was.

"Stop gawking, Granger," Draco huffed. "You're attracting stares."

Indeed she was. Hermione involuntarily shrank closer to Draco as they passed a thick group of Death Eaters.

After ten minutes, Draco halted her in front of an iron door. The handles were shaped like snakes. "Go in," he instructed. "I'll be here when he's finished with you." He gave her arm a quick squeeze, quickly released her, and shoved her past the opening doors.

Hermione jumped as the doors behind her clanged shut. "Welcome, my princess," a wispy voice greeted nearby. The room was dark; the light came from the ceiling, two faintly glowing lamps hung above a throne like structure at the far end of the room. Seeing who occupied the arrangement, Hermione shuddered.

"Voldemort," she stated boldly. "How nice to see you."

"You dare mock me?" he seemed more amused than angered. "You dare ridicule your host? I will teach you."

"And what lesson could I possibly learn from you, Tom Riddle?" Hermione inquired. "What lesson could a mere half-blood teach me?"

Voldemort made no direct response to her question. Instead, he raised his wand and pointed it directly at Hermione. "Crucio!" he said without emotion.

Hermione doubled over in pain. 'I will not scream,' she thought over and over in her mind. 'I will not let him hear me scream.' Pain engulfed her, blocking out her surroundings. All she felt was pain. She did not know exactly how long it continued but felt relieved when she found he had lifted the spell. A moment later she was not sure if she was so glad the spell had been lifted. The aftereffects were almost more painful than the actual spell. She tried to lift herself from the floor. Her entire body screamed in protest. Pitifully she crumpled to the floor. She raised her eyes to Voldemort and saw him staring at her.

"Lovely. You will be such a pleasure to break." Suddenly he began laughing, a cold, malicious, frightening laugh. He strode over to her cowering figure and placed a well aimed kick, coming in contact with her sore side.

Hermione inwardly flinched as she felt a snap in her side. Her breathing became labored. "What do you want?" she managed to gasp.

"Why, my dear, I want you to suffer," Voldemort stated simply. "I want that lovely Potter to come after you so that he can suffer too. You will cause them all to die. Now be a good girl and stop asking questions." His eyes flashed and he shot another spell at her, "Excrudolens!"

Hermione began convulsing, her body rising and slamming repeatedly into the stone floor. Pain washed over her, obscuring her vision and sending spasms through her frame. After many moments of experiencing this Hermione could hold in her pain no longer; a small moan escaped her mouth.

Voldemort's smile twisted. "Very good," he roared. "Finite Incantatem. I will see you tomorrow," he informed Hermione. He resumed his seat upon his throne and called, "Malfoy."

Draco appeared in the doorway. Hermione could barely make out his form, his dark clothes blurring his body with the dark stone.

"Take her away," Voldemort commanded.

Hermione felt herself being jerked into a standing position. She tried to stand on her own but found she had not the strength. Slowly she fell back to the ground. "Get up, mudblood," Draco growled. Resentfully, Hermione found herself being dragged across the hard floor away from her tormenter.

Once outside Voldemort's chamber, Hermione noticed that Draco no longer was holding her so fiercely. "I'm sorry," she managed to croak out. "I can't walk."

In vain she attempted to cling to her consciousness. Half a breath later she knew no more.

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