Eden

It's so dark...

Where am I?

My eyes are closed. They're so heavy I feel as if I'm dragging the lids up as I try to open them.

And when I do get them open all I can see is darkness. But it's an odd darkness; a... green darkness.

God, I'm thirsty.

I groan slightly, licking my parched lips.

My vision's blurry. I can only see that strange, dark, green colour.

Where am I?

I blink, and things slowly begin to come into focus. The low ceiling, the black stone, the green light...

And then I remember. I remember Lucius Malfoy in my bedroom. I remember him taking me to the Death-Eaters' headquarters. I remember a deep voice telling Lucius to put me away for the time being, and the rush of the stunning spell...

I sit up quickly, wincing with pain as I do so. Every muscle in my body aches, but the pain in my head is the worst of it. It's so bad my ears are ringing. I feel as if I've been hit around the head with a troll's club.

I look around me while rubbing the back of my neck. I'm in a tiny... I suppose it's a cell. They must have moved me here while I was unconscious. The walls are made of black stone, and the room is lit up by a single, green flamed torch. It's just dark enough to hurt my eyes with strain, but light enough to see everything in here. Not that there's much to see. All that's in here is a pile of straw in the corner with a blanket thrown over it. I assume it's meant to be a bed of some kind.

I suppose it could be worse.

How could this situation possibly be any worse, Hermione?

I'm not hurt... yet. And I'm still alive.

I take a deep breath, and try think about the situation logically.

Get your bearings first, and then search the room. See if there's anything here to help you.

I look down at myself, and I see that one of my arms has deep purple marks around it, from where Lucius gripped me in the woods. This doesn't surprise me; he held me so hard I thought he was going to break my arm. No, what surprises me is how dirty I am. It must have been muddy out in the woods. My clothes are covered in filth. The entire front and side of my jeans are caked in mud.

I run my fingers along the fabric of my jeans, scraping the cold, wet dirt onto my finger-tips and under my nails. I bring my hand up in front of my face, and I rub the mud between my fingers and my thumb. The squelching sensation is kind of comforting.

I move my fingers to my other arm, to the bruises that he left there. I circle the marks, tracing the purple imprints with my dirty fingers, ignoring the slight sting the pressure causes. I'm amazed at how quickly the bruises have come to the surface. Either his grip was so strong that my arm has bruised almost immediately, or I must have been here for quite a long time.

Would I have arrived at the Burrow by now if he hadn't appeared in my bedroom?

I feel a stinging come to the back of my nose and throat, as the reality of the situation comes crashing down around me.

I'm locked in a cell, in the Death-Eaters' headquarters, with no way out. I don't even have a friend with me, to help me through it. I'm completely and utterly alone, surrounded by people who believe that it would have been better if I hadn't been born.

I don't know what they're going to do to me here, but I can imagine. They must need me for something; otherwise Lucius would have killed me as soon as he found me.

So what do they need me for?

If they put their minds to it, they could really get a lot of use out of me; one of Harry Potter's best friends, who has visited the Order's headquarters and met many of it's members.

I may not know exactly what they're going to do to me, but what I do know is how these people go about making people do what they want. They drove Neville's poor parents to insanity with the Cruciatus curse, trying to get them to reveal Voldemort's whereabouts. I saw his mother in St. Mungo's; her eyes were completely blank, her hair was falling out. She can't even recognise her own son, for crying out loud. What kind of horrors must they have put her through, to put her in that state? How could I hold out against that sort of pain? Harry told me, it's like nothing you've ever experienced until you feel it.

I wish Harry was here with me. He'd know what to do. He'd be strong, and I'd feel so much braver if he were facing them with me.

You should be glad that he's not here with you. That would mean his suffering as well as yours.

I curl myself up into a ball, hugging myself and resting my head on my knees.

Does anyone know that I'm missing yet?

Maybe they've sent people to try and rescue me!

OK. So members of the Order are simply going to walk right into the Death-Eaters' secret layer and save you, are they?

I close my eyes, irritated at myself for my own stupid hopefulness.

Poor Mum and Dad. What are they going to do? They know about the war, I've told them all about it, but to be honest I don't think they ever completely understood the danger...

Until now.

I wish more than anything that I was at home. I wish I'd just woken up in my own bed, instead of in this horrible place, and that right now I was getting ready to go to the Burrow. Mum would be fussing about how I should have a proper breakfast, and Dad would be loading my luggage into the car. They don't like Apparation; they'd insisted that they would drive me there.

I want my Mum. I want her to give me a cuddle and tell me everything will be alright, and that she and Dad will look after me.

And I want to see Ron and Harry. They've always been so awkward in comforting me whenever something's upset me. That awkwardness would be so welcome now.

What will they do? Will they give up their pursuit of Voldemort's Horcruxes to come and find me?

I hope not. I want them to carry on, not to waste a second on me...

But I know deep down that they'll tell themselves that the destruction of Voldemort can wait, and that they should try to rescue me first.

And in the meantime, precious time will be wasted, and more people will be killed while Voldemort still lives.

Maybe that was part of their motive in bringing me here. Both Lucius and Voldemort himself know that Harry will drop everything in order to save a friend.

And Ron will go with him, putting himself in danger as well.

What if they end up hurt because of me?

Come on. Don't pretend that a small part of you doesn't want them to come and rescue you...

I give myself a shake, not wanting to pursue that thought.

I'm so full of emotion that I feel as if I'm about to burst trying to hold it all inside of me.

But I won't let myself cry. I won't. While I'm alive, there's still hope. I won't think about my friends, or my parents, or what might be about to happen to me.

I'm going to focus on where I am, and nothing else.

I stand up, and walk over to the cell door. There's a tiny barred window in it, which I can see through if I stand on tiptoe. A grown man could probably look in here with ease.

Somehow, that thought doesn't comfort me.

I look out of that window. There's a corridor out there, furnished in the same style as my cell. The black stone walls are lined with green-flamed torches. There are other doors like mine along the walls. Maybe there are other prisoners here...

'Hello?' I call out.

No answer. Either these cells are enchanted to be soundproof, or there aren't any more prisoners being kept here.

The door has no handle. Undeterred, I push against it with all of my might, although I know there's no point. It's probably locked with some of the strongest sealing spells invented.

I turn around, facing back into my cell. There's nothing else in here, apart from the four walls and that 'bed' in the corner.

Bastards. Making people sleep on straw... like animals. Even in Azkaban, I remember Sirius saying, they give you a proper bed.

Yes, but they also used to lock people up with creatures that sucked all of the joy out of you.

That's different... most of Azkaban's prisoners were Death-Eaters...

So Sirius and Hagrid were Death-Eaters, were they?

However they treat the people in Azkaban, it's nothing compared to what these people do to their enemies.

Are you sure about that?

I push that thought out of my mind, and crouch down by my new 'bed'. I pull the blanket up, and begin to search through the straw. I don't know what exactly it is that I'm looking for. Maybe a former prisoner left something here for the next poor sod that ended up in this cell.

It's a long shot, but there's no reason not to look.

I frantically root through the straw, pulling up every last bit of it, but it's not hiding anything. All that lies beneath it is a bare stone floor.

I sit back on the ground, trying not to be disappointed.

What were you thinking? That someone would have left you a wand, a disguise and a plan of the building?

I can taste the bitterness of tears in my throat again as I look blankly at the mess I've made of what I'm supposed to sleep on...

Hang on a minute... what's that?

There's something written on a stone at the bottom of the wall, by the pile of straw. I shift closer to it, remaining crouched on the ground.

The writing is raggedy; like it's been carved over time with a tiny stone or even a fingernail. I have to move my head really close to the stone to read it...

'To the Order - Don't let them win'

I look at the inscription, amazed that someone thought to leave a message of comfort for their fellow prisoners.

'Don't let them win'

I don't move my eyes from that message. I keep perfectly still, feeling it sink in. I'm drawing strength from those letters. They're imprinting themselves on my brain.

'Don't let them win'

I won't. I can't. I won't help them win this war. I don't care what they do to me; they'll get nothing from me, nothing...

I hear a soft murmuring, beginning faintly before growing louder. I listen carefully. A few moments pass by before I register what the sound is.

There are voices outside of my cell. Men's voices, moving slowly down the corridor.

There can't be any silencing spells on these walls. I must be the only prisoner here.

Or the only prisoner here still in a fit state to talk.

I crawl over to my door, pressing my ear to it in an effort to hear what they're saying.

'...Put up quite a fight, I can tell you.'

It's his voice. That bastard who brought me here.

'Wasn't she one of those brats we ran into at the Ministry?'

That's not him speaking. It's a deeper, accented voice. I think it's the one I heard earlier, telling Lucius to put me away for the time being.

'Yes, she was there.' The voices stop near my door, and there's a short pause. 'Damn, we're late.'

'Well let's get her quickly, then.-'

'No, you go on, Antonin. There's no point in keeping you detained here. Could you send my apologies to the Dark Lord, and tell him I shall bring the girl to him presently.'

The Dark Lord? Oh God, no!

I hear footsteps dying away. Then there's a muttered incantation, and a click coming from my door.

I kick myself back across the floor to the other side of the room, and I press myself, crouched, against the wall.

It's him. Lucius Malfoy. He steps into the room, and greets me with a mocking smile.

'Ah, you're awake. Good. Bringing people round after a stunning can take time. How considerate of you to save me the bother.'

Hate surges through me like an electric current. I feel it run from my stomach right to the tips of my fingers and toes.

He steps further into the room, seemingly oblivious of my loathing. 'Did you sleep well, Mudblood?'

Go to hell...

He laughs lightly at the look on my face.

'But of course you did. Forgive me.' He gestures around the room flourishingly. 'And how do you like your accommodation? It's not the biggest room we've got, I grant you, but it certainly has' - one of his eyebrows flicks upwards - 'atmosphere.'

I stare at him uncomprehendingly. What does he want? To provoke me into a reaction, so that he can punish me and lecture me on obedience again? What is he, some kind of sadist?

As if you even need to ask that question. What was it he said yesterday? 'I can be rather... inventive when it comes to inflicting pain.' Now that he has you safely imprisoned, he can provoke you all he wants.

'But then, you grew up in a Muggle house, didn't you?' He's still smiling that twisted smile. 'I daresay that this charming little room seems like a palace compared to the kind of living conditions you are used to.'

It sounds so much like something his pathetic son would say.

How did Harry reply to Draco's insults? With his fists, usually. Ron was the same, but whenever he did bother to use words his comebacks were always the most simple, and yet, in a way, the most brilliant...

I look Lucius in the eye, and I feel Ron's words come out of my mouth:

'Sod off.'

He raises his eyebrows, though the rest of his expression remains unfathomable. There's a long silence, during which I begin to panic that he's going to loose his temper again.

But then his expression changes...

Did he... was that...

Did he just smile?

He turns around, and when he turns back to me his expression is as cold as ever.

'I'm not going to dignify that pitiable response with an answer, Mudblood.'

He holds his hand out to me.

'Come,' he says. 'My master wishes to see you, and he will not take kindly to being kept waiting.'

His Master?

No, I can't...

I feel my body curl in on itself in terror, and I press myself closer into the wall.

Now he definitely is smiling. But it's not a pleasant expression. It puts me in mind of a friendly snake.

'Ah, not so brave now are we, Miss Granger?' He walks slowly across the room until he's standing over me, that horrible, gloating smirk not leaving his face. 'Where's that irritating Gryffindor courage of yours? Deserted you at the mention of the Dark Lord, has it?' He raises his eyebrows and runs his eyes over me in distaste. 'I'm not surprised. You're not exactly his favourite class of person. But you can be rest assured that for the moment you are quite safe. He doesn't want you killed... yet.'

I stay still, breathing deeply. He's not going to kill me...yet. That gives me time, at least.

Time for what?

I don't know. Just... time.

'Now' - he steps back from me again - 'will you do as you're told and come with me, or will I have to use force once more?'

No...

I won't go. I won't.

I won't go to... him.

I press myself further into the wall, wanting more than anything to disappear into it.

Lucius waits a few moments, before rolling his eyes in exasperation. He flicks his wand in my direction. An invisible force pulls me up on to my feet. He steps towards me again, looking down into my face.

'There's no use in trying to get out of this one, Mudblood,' he says, not troubling to disguise the exasperation in his voice. 'The Dark Lord wishes to see you, and if you think he will tolerate disobedience then you are a fool.'

I look up in to those cold, grey eyes. I don't know what I'm looking for. Compassion, perhaps, or even just a hint of kindness. But there's nothing. I may as well be looking into a frozen lake, for all the warmth I might see.

His eyes remain on mine.

'Are you a fool, Miss Granger?'

I scowl up at him. 'No.'

'Then prove it.' He pulls his wand out of his robes and runs it gently down my cheek. 'Don't make this any more difficult than it has to be.'

When it comes down to it, what choice do I have? He'll make me go anyway, if I try to refuse him...

Reluctantly, I give a tiny nod. He smiles, and steps behind me before pushing me out of the door in front of him.

I stumble out into the corridor, and he pushes me off to the left. There's a complete silence while I walk along as slowly as I can, with his wand pressed into my back.

We pass many cells like mine. I can't see through their windows, but occasionally I can hear what sounds like faint whimpering coming from behind some of the doors.

It seems I wasn't alone in this corridor, after all.

It's a long passageway. The walk down it seems to take forever. My bare feet pad softly on the cold stone floor. Lucius' shoes click smartly behind me.

Eventually we reach a spiralling stone staircase. As we climb it, I wonder just how far underground my cell must be. There are so many steps. I feel sweat running down my back and a stitch pierces my side, but whenever I slow down he prods me in the back with his wand and I feel a short burst of pain where he touches me. I gasp when he first does it, but then I regain my control, and force myself not to react.

I just try not to slow down if I can help it.

When we reach the top of the stairs, we come to another long corridor. This one also has doors along it, but no barred windows. I can hear no whimpering, but I can hear conversation and occasionally laughter coming from these rooms.

These must be the Death-Eaters' living quarters.

How can they sleep directly above a prison?

I suppose Lucius must live here, now that he's on the run from the law.

At the end of this corridor we come to a door. It's a lot grander than any of the doors I've seen in this place already. It's large, and made of stone, with carvings of snakes on it. Whether it's locked or not, I don't know, but Lucius flicks his wand and it slowly swings open with a horrible grinding sound.

I look ahead of me through the doorway to see a familiar looking, very large room. Lucius grabs me by the shoulders and pushes me through the doorway, closing the door behind us.

I think we're in the Great Hall we entered through yesterday. It looks the same; the walls are lined with those pillars entwined with serpents.

The room is filled with a complete silence, although I can see there are about ten people in here.

It's an awful silence, full of tension and fear.

The people in this room are dressed in black robes, and standing in a semi-circle around the giant chair at the head of the hall. The throne with the huge stone snake rearing up behind it.

And that chair is no longer empty...

Oh God, Oh God!

All of them turn to stare at us, at me, as we enter the room. None of them are wearing masks.

I suppose they don't need to protect their identity from those who they don't expect to leave here alive.

I quickly move my gaze to the floor, before I can get a proper look at their faces. I don't want to see who's on that throne, and so I keep my head bowed and my eyes on the ground.

Lucius pushes me forwards, towards the throne. I try to keep my breathing steady.

Be brave, Hermione.

When we reach the circle of Death-Eaters, a couple of them move aside to allow us through, towards that grotesque chair. As Lucius pushes me into the centre of the circle, my legs completely give way in pure terror, and I fall to my knees. Pain shoots up through my legs, and I can hear the Death-Eaters jeering.

Don't let them win...

I pick myself up shakily from the floor; I might be terrified but I've still got my pride.

But I won't look at that throne. Pride will only take me so far.

Lucius steps around me, and goes forward to speak to the man on the throne.

'The girl, as you required, my Lord.'

The Death-Eaters' jeering dies away as they wait for his response, and that horrible, tense silence fills the room once more. It seems to go on forever, while we all wait for the man on that throne to speak.

'Let me see her face.'

Oh God, that voice! It's so high and so... cold. And it's not just that, there's something else. It's got something about it, like nails being dragged down a blackboard. It goes through me, and makes me want to shudder.

If just hearing his voice makes me flinch, what will seeing him do to me?

'Look up, girl.' That's Lucius' voice. It sounds like it did a few moments ago, when we were alone; drawling and cool. But there's a new note in it, something that wasn't there before.

I think it might be fear.

'Look up!' he hisses at me angrily.

I won't look at that throne, I won't. I don't want to see...

I can't...

I can't!

'She doesn't seem to be able to do as she's told, Lucius.' That cold voice again.

I resist the urge to wince.

'Oh, I got to know this girl on our journey over here, my Lord.' That's Lucius' voice. I wasn't mistaken, there's definitely fear there, somewhere. There's a kind of... forced boldness in his words. 'She seems utterly incapable of willing obedience. I tried to teach her humility, but she proved most unwilling to accept that her place in the world is beneath us.'

I'm not beneath you, you bastard!

'However, with a bit of perseverance I think her will could be broken,' Lucius drawls. 'She's only a child, after all-'

I'm seventeen years old. Your son was younger than I am now when he became a Death-Eater. I'm not a child anymore.

'It is the same with all Muggles, Lucius.' I want to put my hands over my ears, to block out that awful voice, but I won't be weak. 'They cannot see their own insignificance. They are so feeble, so useless compared to us, and yet they cannot see it.' He pauses, and I shiver as I feel his gaze on me. 'And so they push their children into our world, flaunting them as wizards. Or, in this case, as witches.'

I am a witch. I'm as magical as any of you!

I can see the bottom of his long robe. I can see him step off of his throne and walk down towards me.

I can't breathe for fear. I can feel the sting of tears behind my eyes, and I grit my teeth against it. I'm not weak, I'm not...

But I can't look at him.

He stops a few paces away from me. I can see most of his body in his black robes. He's tall, and very thin, I think. And his hands... they're like huge, white spiders. And there's no colour in the skin; I can see the tiny, purple veins running underneath it.

But I can't yet see his face, and I'm grateful for that.

'Look at me, Mudblood!'

I won't. I taste vomit in the back of my throat, I'm so scared.

I won't look at him!

He's close to me. Not as close as Lucius has frequently been in the last twenty-four hours, but close enough. I can sense... something coming off of him. I can almost feel the malevolence of him, seeping into the air around him, polluting the atmosphere.

Whether it's just my imagination or not, I don't know. But I'm shaking in fright.

'The Dark Lord has ordered you to look at him, Mudblood.' Lucius' voice again. He's angry with me, I can hear it. 'You will obey your new master,'

Yesterday, I would have told Lucius that no-one is my master, let alone the so-called Dark Lord. But I can't. If Lucius scared me, it is nothing compared to how I feel in his master's presence.

Voldemort chuckles softly.

'It seems you're losing your touch, Lucius.' He's taunting him. His voice is as soft and as sinister as a snake's belly moving through cool, long grass. 'Before you went into Azkaban you could make grown men crawl at your feet. Now, it seems, you can't even force a schoolgirl to do your bidding-'

A nervous laughter runs through the Death-Eaters, and when Lucius speaks, his voice is tight with suppressed resentment.

'If I may, my Lord...'

I see his feet move towards me, and his wand jerks downwards. I feel an invisible weight on my back, pushing me down onto all fours on the ground by their feet. My palms graze slightly on the stone. I try to push myself up, but the force won't shift from my back.

It's alright. This isn't real obedience; I don't want to be crawling in front of him...

There's an invisible grip on my chin. It wrenches my head up, forcing me to face the pair of them.

No...

It's... it's not human. His face. Voldemort's face. It can't be human. It's like a snake's, but then like a man's. And those eyes! They're... red, with slits for pupils. But that's not the most terrifying thing about them. There's no... light, no soul behind those eyes. Looking into them is like looking into an abyss of evil.

He runs those terrible eyes over my face, looking almost disappointed. I... I can't keep looking at him. I may not be able to move my head, but I can still move my eyes. I shift them away from Voldemort, and they rest on Lucius' face. His face, which I hated so much yesterday, is at least human. His eyes might be cold, but there's... something there.

Something human, anyway.

'So this is the Hermione Granger you told me about, Lucius.' Voldemort is speaking to Lucius, but I can see out of the corner of my eye that he's still looking at me. 'From what you told me this morning, I was expecting a bit more spirit from her. I have to confess, I am disappointed. Watching them attempt to fight against us is always amusing-'

'It seems that your presence has knocked some of the arrogance out of her, my Lord-' Lucius begins, his voice smooth.

Voldemort breathes a small laugh. 'You have not lost your great ability to say all the right things to all the right people, then, Lucius,' he says, with amusement in his voice.

Lucius might be sucking up to Voldemort, but what he's saying is true. I hate myself for not fighting back, but although yesterday my instinct was to struggle, the actual presence of Voldemort has caused all of my courage to desert me. I've never, ever been so afraid in my life. I had thought myself terrified yesterday, but how I felt then pales in comparison to how I feel now.

'Look at me.'

I can't, I can't look at that again. I keep my eyes on Lucius, who meets my gaze with a frown. But it's not just an angry frown. There's something else there, lurking just beneath the surface...

It's confusion. He genuinely doesn't understand why I won't do as I'm told.

'LOOK AT ME!'

I feel a tearing pain streak across my face. I suck in my breath, and look at him despite myself. I look into those red, soulless eyes as he speaks to me.

'Ah, little Mudblood,' he says, a small smile on his face. 'If you only knew just how useful you are going to prove to be. You have spent your entire life being worthless, unwanted by either our or your own people. But you shall, at this, the very end of your life, prove so helpful to our cause that it may be the one thing that will give your life meaning.'

The end of my life...?

They're going to kill me. I knew deep down already, of course I did. But now he's confirmed it. They're going to get what they need, and then they're going to kill me.

And I'll never see my Mum and Dad, or Ron, or Harry again!

'What you need to ask yourself is: how willing are you to help us?' He won't move his eyes off of mine. They fill my insides with ice. 'Will you make our task that much easier, or will you discover just how much pain you are capable of withstanding?'

How can I answer that? I say I'll help them, and I make myself a traitor. I say I won't, and they'll torture me. I can't face either of those outcomes.

And so I keep quiet.

Those eyes don't look angry. I don't think there's enough humanity in those eyes for them to be angry. But they darken, somehow, and when he speaks his voice rises in rage.

'Answer me, girl!'

That sharp pain across my face again. I gasp, but I won't answer.

'Do you see this?' He's almost shouting now. 'Do you see how this insolent little Mudblood disobeys me?'

He moves back to his throne and sits himself down on it. For a long while, silence fills the room as he looks at me long and hard. I can feel a shiver run through the Death-Eaters. They seem to be more scared of his silences than they are of his words.

'Punish her for me, Lucius.'

I look up at Lucius, who is already raising his wand. He remains still for a moment, with his wand in mid-air, before flicking it rather heavily at me in a sideways motion.

It's as if a huge metal fist has punched me hard in the stomach. I feel all the air being knocked out of me as my insides take a bruising. God, it hurts! My head falls forward and my back curls over as I gasp for breath...

'You will answer me, girl!'

That's Voldemort's voice again. I look up at him, while breathing heavily through my nose. Unable to keep my eyes on him, I move my gaze to Lucius, whose own eyes are as cold and detached as ever.

How can you hurt someone like that, and then not feel even the slightest bit guilty about it?

I force my gaze back on to Voldemort, and I give the only answer that I can give to his question.

'I'll tell you nothing.' I can't move myself up off the ground, but I hold up my head as high as I can, breathing hard in an attempt to get rid of the ache in my stomach and my ribs. 'You can torture me, you can kill me, and I'm sure you'll do both. But I won't help you win the war. The pain you will no doubt inflict on me will mean nothing to me as long as I'm suffering for what is right.'

Voldemort smiles. No, it's not a smile; the way his lips have stretched back is terrifying. No smile should look like that. He raises his wand...

'Crucio!'

Oh GOD! It's pain, such pain, pain like nothing I've EVER known. It's like every nerve in my body is on fire. Oh, God, it's unbearable! I know nothing... nothing but agony. I claw at the floor, at my arms, at my face. It won't stop, it won't. God help me, I CAN'T TAKE IT...

And then it stops.

I lie still on the floor, pressing my head into the cold stone. I'm shivering, and I ache all over.

And there's laughter. The Death-Eaters, Voldemort, and Lucius. All laughing at me.

I just went through more physical pain in one sitting than I've experienced in my entire lifetime, and they're laughing at me!

'Pain doesn't bother you, Mudblood?' That's Voldemort's voice. 'Your indifference is well disguised. The pain seems to bother you immensely.'

I raise my head, but I don't look at him. I stare up at Lucius, who is looking down at me with a gloating smile.

This is your moment, isn't it, I think, letting all of my hatred and all of my anger channel into him. You can watch me get what you think I deserve, while you stand by, not having to administer the punishment yourself...

'You coward.'

I only meant to think that, not to say it, but I can feel my lips moving, mouthing the words silently.

Lucius is looking at me, the laughter dying away from his face.

I think he knows what I said.

Voldemort isn't watching me anymore. He's turned to Lucius, who turns his face away from me and towards his master.

'I'll give you charge of her,' Voldemort says to Lucius, his voice curt as he gives his servant his orders. 'I believe you'll understand when I tell you that, although the information she gives will no doubt be important, I do not have time to waste on acquiring it.'

They want information out of me. They'll torture me for it, and then they'll kill me...

Don't let them win.

'I want everything she says written down, word-for-word,' Voldemort goes on. 'You may enlist others to assist you if necessary, as long as they haven't any important assignments to carry out.' He pauses for a moment. 'I don't care how you do it; just get the necessary information out of her. You do understand me, don't you, Lucius?'

'Certainly, my Lord.'

Lucius bows down low to his master, who waves a hand at me.

'Take her away. And make sure that she talks.'

I look up at Lucius, who smiles down at me maliciously.

'It will be my pleasure, My Lord.'