Eden

I have been staring at this ceiling for so long that I have actually counted the stones making it up. 152 black stones, all the same and yet subtly different in texture or surface or shape. 152 stones.

That ceiling has been my one and only view for the past few hours. I haven't moved from my bed since my last toilet break. The straw pokes through my robes and scrapes and scratches my back, but I don't care. It's not as if I deserve comfort.

On my last toilet break I scrubbed at my hands over the sink for as long as I was allowed, trying to get the blood off of them. And although I managed to wash it all away, I can't get rid of the smell. It should be disappearing with time, but it isn't. It just remains, growing stronger with every minute, soaking me to the skin, dirtying the air.

I don't think I'll ever get the stench of the blood out of my nostrils.

My head is pounding unlike anything I've ever known. It hurts so badly that I can't get up anymore without going dizzy.

And so I just lie still, staring at the ceiling, lost in my thoughts and so hot I can't bear it. Sweat runs down my face, running over my lips and onto my tongue. It soaks my robes, clamping them to my skin.

I'd love a long hot bath. To submerge myself into boiling water, to feel it swirl around me, to put my head under and block everything out. To lie there in complete silence, the world blotted out as the water clamps over my ears.

***

It's been ages since they left, ages since Bellatrix and Dolohov took Ron away, and Lucius stormed out of the room calling me pathetic. It must have been more than a day. Maybe two, maybe three.

I really have no idea.

I would think that they were leaving me to die in here, if it were not for the fact that they have carried on bringing me food and taking me down to the toilets every so often.

Maybe it's another mind-game they're playing with me. Giving me too much time to think, too much time to turn everything over and over in my mind.

I bet it's Lucius' idea. He seems to be the one who has the highest standing out of the three.

He's a very clever man. He really knows how to mess you up, physically and mentally.

How could I do it? How could I let myself do that to my best friend?

Lucius' words burn through my mind.

It would have broken your heart, I am sure, should you have seen the look of betrayal on his face as you plunged the knife into his hand.

I pummel my hands into my eyes, pushing my fists into the sockets. I want to scream. I want to hurt, to bleed, and cry. I want to suffer for what I've done.

He was right. I'm so weak, so pathetic.

You're a coward. Just like him.

I'm nothing like him, I'm not! We're nothing like each-other!

But his words pulse through my brain. Different words, this time.

We're not so different, you and I... both of us are cruel to get what we want...

I'm not cruel! House elves deserve freedom, just like anybody else! I was only trying to help them.

But... people kept on telling me it was a cruel thing to do. Even Hagrid said that to free them would amount to cruelty.

And you wouldn't listen to him. You just carried on doing what you thought was right, even though everyone said you were in the wrong. That's another thing you have in common with-

I lift my head up from the floor and slam it back down on the ground. Agony shoots through my already aching head, but I don't cry out. I just put my hands over my eyes, and let silent tears fall from them.

I'm nothing like him.

***

My ears prick up at the sound of footsteps moving rapidly down the corridor, accompanied by a voice I don't recognise.

'Get them out of here.' It's a woman's voice. 'Take them to the warehouse. We'll stay there tonight and then we'll move on in the morning. I have a hiding place in the north which the Dark Lord says we can use.'

What is she talking about?

There's the sound of a cell door opening. My eyes flicker automatically to my own door, but it remains shut. The door being opened is another one out in the corridor.

And then there's a different sound coming from outside my cell. It sounds as if someone's dragging something very heavy along the ground. It's a sort of soft scraping.

It's a horrible noise because I can identify its cause. Someone is being dragged along the ground, and their skin is scraping along the stone floor.

But they aren't making any noise of protest.

My eyes remain on the door. I would go to my window to see what's going on, but I just don't have the energy to get up.

The dragging goes on, getting fainter and fainter as they move along the corridor, until finally, once again, there is silence.

I stay perfectly still on my bed of straw, my eyes fixed on the doorway.

What was that all about?

Actually, I don't care. I'm too tired to worry about something that I might never know the answer to.

I need some sleep...

I should be so lucky. There are more voices out in the corridor. I can't yet make out what they're saying, but they're getting louder as they move towards my cell.

All I want is some rest, some peace, but I can have neither anymore. Not even when they decide to leave me alone for days on end.

There's no peace to be had. There's no resting from fear, or from guilt.

The soft murmur of voices begins to be distinguished by words.

'...our responsibility. I don't like it either, but we'll have to take them with us.'

I know that voice. It's been my constant companion, for the past few days.

He's not alone. There's someone else with him.

'The little brats are more trouble than they're worth.' I know that voice as-well. It's practically the female equivalent of Lucius'. The voices stop outside the door as she sighs resignedly. 'Do you know where you're going?'

'Bella, I've been married to your sister for years. I've had to visit the place more times than I care to recount.'

'You'll have to be careful.' What? Is that concern in her voice? 'They're looking for her, and you're hardly unknown to them. They might follow you, if they're waiting outside-'

'All the better to stop wasting time here, then.' Lucius' voice coldly cuts her concern in half. 'We should get on our way as soon as possible. I'll take the girl, and you and Antonin can take the boy. I think it's for the best - I've spent more time with the Mudblood, I know how to handle her. The boy will need two guards - he's more prone to fighting back physically, as we have discovered.'

I wish I could be as brave as Ron. I wish I could fight back like he can.

'We'll split up,' Lucius continues. 'Therefore if they catch up with one half of us all is not lost. We will still have one of them in our grasp.'

'Good idea,' Bellatrix agrees. 'I'll need to get hold of Antonin, but I should catch up with you soon enough.' There's a shot pause before she speaks again in a much softer voice. 'Good luck, brother.'

Lucius gives a light chuckle.

'Brother, indeed.' There's another short pause. 'I shall see you soon, hopefully.'

There's the sound of footsteps dying away down the corridor, and then the door to my cell clicks and swings open.

Why can't he just leave me alone?

Lucius steps into the room and his eyes fall on me.

I don't move from where I am. I just don't have the energy. I just stay on my back, looking up at him from the floor.

He clicks his fingers at me.

'You, up.'

I ignore the swell of anger that rises within me. I don't have the energy to refuse him. He doesn't look very happy, and I don't want to face any more 'punishment'. I'm sick of it.

I shakily try to get up from the ground, and I somehow manage to get to my feet, but as soon as I do my head reels and spins, and my knees collapse under me and I fall forward to the floor on all fours.

A hand grips at my chin, and my head is wrenched up to see Lucius looking critically into my face.

'You look absolutely terrible,' he says bluntly. 'I thought you were looking bad when I last saw you, but if anything you look even worse now. What's wrong, girl?'

He's talking to me. I just manage to register that fact.

I look into his face. It wavers and blurs before me, turning into just shapes and colours. I can't focus on anything as all the world becomes a mess before my eyes.

He gives me a small slap across the face. The sting of it sharpens my focus slightly, just enough to form an answer.

'I'm not well. I thought you'd gathered that yesterday.'

He rolls his eyes as he lets go of my chin to pull a small drinking flask out of his robes. It's the same one he taunted me with when I first came here.

'Here,' he hands it to me. 'Drink this.'

Shakily, I reach out for the bottle. I bring it to my lips and pour its contents down my throat. I don't care if there's anything other than water in here. I'm past caring. I just drink down everything in the bottle until there's nothing left. The water runs over the dry walls of my throat, but it doesn't stop my head from pounding.

I lower the bottle from my lips. Lucius is watching me, his face tight with impatience.

'Is that any better, Mudblood?'

I try to get myself up, but I just fall down again, shaking my head.

'I can't,' I whisper.

Lucius stands up, sighing in exasperation.

'Damn you,' he mutters with such vehemence that I open my eyes, and I see that he's looking at me with such a still control that it quite terrifies me. 'Why do you insist on making everything so difficult?'

He does a sort of spinning motion with his wand, and thick ropes emerge from the end of it. He pulls me up into a sitting position before grabbing hold of my wrists and tying them together with one of the ropes.

'What are you doing?' I ask weakly, not even bothering to fight against him.

He doesn't look at me as he answers, but carries on pulling hard at the ropes. They cut into my wrists as he ties them up, burning at my skin.

'We have a journey to go on, and I don't trust you not to embark on a foolish escape attempt.'

He pulls the rope tight, so tight it feels like my blood's being cut off. Then he ties up my ankles, and as soon as he has deemed me to be securely helpless he picks me up in his arms.

When he first captured me he needed to curse me to make me accept this. Now I'm so tired that I just don't care anymore. I'm just grateful that I don't have to walk anywhere.

'What's going on?' I ask weakly. 'Where are we going?'

'I have told you,' he mutters as he carries me out of my cell and into the corridor, 'we are going on a journey.'

'But where?' I ask as we move quickly along the corridor.

'What does it matter where?' he replies bitingly. 'We are leaving this place and moving on to somewhere else. Surely you have not become so attached to your cell that you shall miss it all that much?'

'No, I just-'

'You just thought you'd waste my time by asking damned foolish questions.' We reach the stairs at the end of the corridor and begin to ascend them. 'You'll discover where we're going soon enough. Now kindly keep quiet, I don't want to have to speak to you any more than I have to.'

We reach the top of the stairs and move swiftly along the corridor of the Death-Eater's living quarters. All around us there are other Death-Eaters rushing around in apparent panic, collecting their belongings and running towards the great hall.

'What's going on?' I ask again, but my throat is so dry that my voice comes out as little more than a whisper.

I don't think he heard me. Either that or he's ignoring me.

We stop for a moment outside a door which Lucius opens with his wand before summoning a small bag of what looks like readily packed belongings. He manages to catch hold of the bag without letting go of me before heading off to the main Hall.

We eventually make it out of this horrible place after making our way through the various doors and passageways that lead to the shack we entered through, so long ago, and I feel myself ready to cry with happy relief as we emerge into the open air, away from that endless horrible awful prison.

The fresh air hits me, and skims and skips over my face, my hands, my bare feet. Oh, it's so wonderful! The trees are dense above my head, and Lucius has to cast Lumos to be able to see properly, but I can smell that it's night time. The air has that slightly damp, cold smell of after dark. God, it's so great to feel fresh, cold air sting my cheeks and fill my lungs. It's a feeling I never thought I'd experience again.

But I don't have much time to enjoy it. Lucius puts me on the ground in a sitting position and crouches down next to me, holding out his hand.

'Your hand, Miss Granger.'

My mind flashes back to that night in my bedroom, that night when he turned up and everything changed. 'Your hand, Miss Granger...'

He's going to Apparate with me again.

I try to kick out at him as best as I can with my legs tied together, but he just laughs at me softly before grabbing me by the hair and wrenching my face close to his.

'Don't bother trying to escape,' he whispers, gripping my hair so tightly that my head pulses. 'Where do you think you would go? Look at you - ill, weak, and tied up. How far do you expect to get in that state?'

I try to wrench my head out of his grip, I try to twist away from him but he just grabs me by the arm as his grip on my hair grows ever tighter, pulling me closer to him.

'No.' He doesn't even raise his voice. 'Don't even think about trying to get away from me. Even if you were to escape, I would make sure that you lived to regret it.'

'How?' I ask, without any strength left to raise my voice above little more than a whisper. 'How could I possibly regret getting away from you?'

His lips curl up into a cold, twisted smile.

'You seem to be forgetting that I have your little friend under my control.' He smiles all the wider as my face drains of colour. 'Oh yes, Muggle, I know now what currency to use in order to buy your obedience. You will comply with my wishes, or I shall make sure that little Ronald Weasley will be forced to endure sufferings beyond human comprehension. I shall enjoy taking a personal hand in it.'

Damn him. He's got me caught, stuck in a prison of obedience out of my friendship with Ron. And he knows it.

'Now,' - he holds his hand out once again - 'take my hand and come with me. Try doing as you're told without being forced into it, for once.'

Reluctantly, I drag my arms up, stretching out the fingers of one of my hands awkwardly. He smiles at me.

'Good. Perhaps there's hope for you yet.'

He slowly, deliberately slides his hand into mine, wrapping his fingers around my own. I shiver involuntarily at his touch, and the last thing I see before we Apparate together is his pale face sneering back at me, his eyes full of mocking as if he knows the effect it has on me.

We emerge form the tiny, airless, cramped space Apparation presses you into, and he stands up as I bring my bound wrists to my forehead and rub clumsily at my skull with both hands, trying to pull myself together and to get rid of this thumping pain which is threatening to overwhelm me.

Eventually I look up again, my vision blurred as my eyes feel like they're swelling for a moment, and as my sight clears up I can see that we're right next to a huge, black lake, with mist sitting over it in a thick blanket, lit up silver by the moonlight.

I watch him as he shakes back the sleeve of his robe and pulls his wand out of his pocket. He slashes it across his wrist, and it tears at the skin, ripping a huge gash in it. He takes the hurt without so much of a whimper, and blood oozes quickly out of the wound. He shakes his wrist over the water, allowing his blood to drip into it. He seals up the gash on his arm before he can lose more blood than is necessary, and then he stands back, calling over the water in a clear, loud voice.

'I am one of the ancient and most noble House of Black.' His voice bounces back to us in echoes. 'I require passage over the lake.'

Almost as soon as he's finished speaking he turns and bends down to pick me up once again.

'You're not a Black,' I say weakly, wanting to straighten my thoughts out.

'My, how very astute you are.' He breathes the words out, his voice low and mocking. 'Your intelligence will never cease to amaze me.'

'Alright.' I sigh the word, closing my eyes in resigned exhaustion. 'I was only wondering-'

I let the words trail off; let them disappear into the air as fatigue threatens to overwhelm me.

'I may not be a Black, but I married one,' he says after a short silence. 'In marrying Nar... my wife, I became a part of her family. My blood effectively became that of hers.'

Pure-bloods fanatics. Their twisted logic will never make sense to me.

'Ah, here we are.'

At Lucius' words my eyes flicker open to see a boat coming out of the mist, floating silently along the water. It's a very small boat, made out of what looks like ebony with a blue-flamed torch attached to its head. It silently comes to a stop by the river, bumping silently on the bank, allowing us to step into it. It's such an accurate stop that it's almost as if it's being steered by something invisible.

He puts me and the bag he's carrying into the boat and gets in himself behind me, pushing the boat away from the bank with his foot as he gets into it. As I turn around, watching the bank move away from us along with my chance of freedom, I feel his arms wind around my waist. I jump as I feel his grip tight around me, reminding me of a cobra in those nature programs Dad likes so much. The ones that squeeze you slowly to death.

'What are you doing?' I whisper, automatically getting defensive when someone touches me in such a sensitive area - just above my stomach, at the bottom of my ribcage.

He looks down at me with no expression at all.

'This lake is known amongst the local Muggles as being extremely dangerous,' he murmurs. 'Many a Muggle has died while swimming in the water, or trying to sail across it. The few that have survived any contact with it lost their minds soon afterwards. In view of this fact, Miss Granger, I would advise you to let me hold on to you. Believe me, I wouldn't allow you to be so close to me if it were not necessary.'

He tightens his grip around my waist, and although I dislike it, I don't fight against him. I know that he wouldn't be holding on to me if he didn't feel like he had to. It's not as if he's using it as a cheap excuse to try and touch me - he has made it clear enough times that I am repulsive to him.

But still... I don't like it. I don't like the way his grip is so tight around my ribs it feels as if he's going to crush my bones. I don't like how I can feel his chest pressed into my back. I don't like how I can feel his breath lightly skating on the side of my neck.

It makes me feel really uncomfortable.

We float quietly across the water, the boat creating ripples across the still, glassy surface of the lake. The moonlight lights the water up, adding shards of silver to the deep blue. It looks so tranquil and serene. It couldn't seem less dangerous if it tried.

'You don't need to hold on to me,' I say to him quietly. 'There's nothing here.'

I look up at him, but he continues to look out over the water.

'They might, if we are lucky, remain dormant due to my presence in the boat.'

'But why-'

'Shh.' His voice cuts across mine, harshly stopping my words dead. 'It would not be wise for you to alert them to your existence.'

'I don't get it-'

'Damn you, girl, can you for once do as your told,' he hisses, obviously struggling to keep his voice down. 'I'm not saying this for my own benefit. If you know what's good for you, you'll keep your damn mouth closed!'

I clamp my mouth shut at that, knowing that there's no point in pushing it. Something's worrying him, and I'm damned if I'm going to bring any more trouble upon myself.

We sail quietly across the water, and his grip on me remains tight although nothing seems to be happening. I can feel the strength of his arm through the layers of robe between us.

I let my eyes float over the water, taking in the darkness of the surface broken with ripples of silver. Occasionally I think I can see something moving beneath the surface. I can see strange glints of light, or odd little movements of something indistinguishable under the dark face of the water.

A horrible thought comes to me; a memory of Harry telling me about the cave by the sea, the water teeming with the dead...

'There aren't Inferi in here, are there?' I whisper, trying to ignore the panicky, squashy feelings deep in my stomach.

'No,' he murmurs back, 'but there are beings that are just as deadly when provoked. And they see your kind as provocation. So will you kindly keep your voice down?'

Oh God!

I'm floating over a river full of creatures that attack Muggle-borns and Muggles!

It'll be okay. They haven't attacked you yet, and you've got Lucius with you-

So I'm looking to Lucius for protection now?

The thought turns my entire world upside-down, just for a second.

Eventually the mist over the lake clears to reveal a long stone wall in the side of what looks like a very tall hill. There's a small opening in the wall, like a low cave, and as the boat moves towards this opening it begins to sway slightly. I look over the side of the boat to the water, and I see long fingered, greenish arms reaching out to us. They seem to be grabbing at the boat, moving it from side to side. And I hear strange, musical, high pitched voices rise up from the water.

'The Mudblood!'

'A Muggle tries to cross the water!'

'Stop the Muggle.'

'A Mudblood cannot pass!'

The voices all rise, merging together to form a horrible, high pitched chorus.

Lucius' grip around my waist tightens, bringing me so close to him that his cheek presses in to the side of my head.

'Hold on to me, hold on for all you're worth.' He is so close to me that his voice is right next to my ear. 'Do not let go, do you understand?'

I look up at him, and I see that his face is taut with worry. I nod at him, and move my arms back so that I can cling on to his arm with my fingers as best as I can with my hands tied together. I grip onto his robes, feeling the luxurious folds of fabric under my fingers, and the arm underneath.

He stares back at me grimly for a second before he's distracted by the movement of the boat, which starts to rock violently, swaying too and fro as the hands grab at the sides of it, pushing it aggressively from side to side.

'Damn it,' Lucius mutters, his hand tightening around my waist as he reaches for his wand in his robes. He points it at the head of the boat.

'Immobilus!'

The boat stops moving, coming to a complete halt just at the mouth of the cave in the side of the wall. It's no longer rocking, but it's no longer sailing forward, either. I lean forward slightly to look over the side, to see if those... things are still there, but he holds onto me tight.

'Stay still,' he says, his voice rigid with alarm. 'Do not move unless it's necessary, do you hear?'

Almost as soon as he says that strange, green, long fingered hands come out of the water, up and into the boat, which still does not rock as it should be doing.

'Stupefy!'

The red light shoots from Lucius' wand towards the creatures, but it has no effect. It just runs through them, as if they were made of air.

'Stupefy!' he calls out again. 'Avada Kedavra! Stupefy! Immobilus!'

But the spells just rush through the hands, not even touching them as they grab at me, gripping at my clothes, my hair, my body, pulling me out of the boat. Lucius tries to keep his grip on me, and I try to hold on to him but I can't because my wrists are tied together and my fingers aren't strong enough on their own. The hands of the creatures are strong, too strong as they pull at me, wrenching me out of the boat and shit! I'm going to go over-

'Hold on!' he yells.

But I can't, I can't, they're too strong for me!

'The muggle cannot cross.' The musical voices ring with laughter. 'Bring her down to the depths.'

They wrench me out of his grip. I struggle against them, holding on for all my worth to the boat, trying to make a grab for Lucius' arms, but I can't because of my tied wrists, and I go over the edge, and Oh My God what am I going to do?

I hit the water with a stinging 'smack', and it closes over my head a few moments later.

The water presses down at me from all sides, blocking out everything - sound, pain, the world. It's cool on my hot body, and it completely surrounds me, pulling my down. What am I doing? I don't want to fight it. I want to stay here forever. I want to float here, to be taken to oblivion where I can forget everything; thought, pain, fear. The cool hands pull me down through the water, and I see the faces of the creatures in the water. Greenish in colour, with blank, white eyes, pointed teeth which are bared in a smile as they laugh, dragging me down into the cold, dark deep...

I want to go with them. I don't want to think, to feel, to know, I just want to disappear into this cool abyss, oh yes, take me with you.

But then some thick, red liquid swirls through the water around me, growing in size as it filters through the water, and almost as soon as it does the creatures disperse, sinking away from me, letting me go. Their voices grow fainter as they all disappear, and I am left alone, floating in the cold water, my hair and my red robes swirling around me.

Oh my god, I need air! My lungs hurt, oh they hurt, I need air! I can't see, can't breathe, can't think-

No! I don't want to die!

As I start to flail around in the water, frantically throwing my bound arms and legs around me, an iron band of strength clamps around my waist, and I feel myself pulled up, up through the water which swirls and presses down on me...

I break through the surface of the water, my lungs filling so quickly with wonderful air, so quickly that it hurts, scraping my lungs and my throat. I cough out about a ton of water as I feel myself pulled up into the boat.

I fall into the boat, coughing up more water than I've ever drank in my life and trying so hard to breathe in as much of the night air as possible.

Did... did Lucius just rescue me?

'Why didn't you hold on, you stupid girl!'

He grabs me by the shoulders, looking into my face with such anger that it sends a jolt of fear through me.

'I tried!' I gasp, wheezing the words out between coughs.

'Not hard enough!' His fingers bite into my wet shoulders, and he's wet too, his blonde hair dripping around his shoulders. His eyes are blazing with rage and-

And?

'You stupid little bitch!' He keeps his grip on my shoulders, looking so closely into my face that my vision almost goes double. 'Why didn't you do as you were told?'

I breathe heavily, watching the water run down his face.

He breaks the eye contact between us, and runs his hand over his head. When he looks at me again he's got his control back again, all emotion gone.

He turns to the front of the boat again.

'Finite Incantatem,' he mutters, and the boat begins to sail forwards once again, on into the dark cave.

'Where have they gone?' I ask quietly as we float further into the cave, our way lit up by the torch attached to the boat.

'I spilt my blood into the water.' He pulls his wand out of his robes and points it at his wand at his wrist, which is sporting quite a large cut, seeping blood at a very fast rate. A warm, golden glow flows out of his wand and onto the wound, which heals up quickly.

'How would that help me?' I ask blankly.

'Those creatures go for Mudbloods,' he replies matter-of-factly. 'I thought that to spill my blood in the water would banish them. It's just as well that my impulse proved to be right.'

I don't say anything. I just sit there, shivering as the boat floats yet deeper into the cave, wondering why I didn't think of that idea myself.

He dries himself off with his wand, and he frowns at me for a second before drying me off as well, spreading wonderful, dry warmth over me.

'You can't have spilt that much, though,' I say. 'There was loads of blood in the water-'

'I cast Engorgio on it while it was on its way out of the wound,' he replies before I can finish.

My jaw drops slightly. I can't help it. I wouldn't even have thought about doing that.

We sail on in silence through the now still waters. No more of those weird creatures bother us, although occasionally I think I can still see one of their faces in the water, looming up to the surface before disappearing again. I try to keep my eyes off the lake, and I look ahead out into the blackness in front of us.

Eventually, the ceiling of the cave opens up to reveal a huge underground cavern. The ceiling is so high I can't really make it out, and the walls are lined with blue flaming torches which give the place a cold, eerie light.

And in the middle of this cave there's a huge... I could call it a house, but that wouldn't be right. It's almost like a castle, although it's not quite big enough to be called that. It's so elaborate and almost impossibly grand-looking that it takes my breath away. It looks like a picture from a book I had when I was a little girl - a picture of the castle of the Dark Fairie queen. It's both terrifying and beautiful.

We come to a stop by a bank next to the house. He steps out of the boat before picking both me and his belongings up out of the boat. He carries me up to the door of the house, which he opens to reveal only darkness inside.

'Welcome to your new lodgings, Mudblood,' he mutters, before closing the door behind us, shutting us away in the dark.

'Lumos!'

Light beams from the end of his wand, filtering into the pitch black of the building. I look around, but I can't really make out much of what's around us. Lucius seems to know his way through the building, though, and he carries me through what seems to be several corridors. I can see that this place is very old and decrepit, but I can't make out much of my surroundings or the shapes of any of the corridors.

Eventually, we go through a door into a room that I can't see properly through the darkness. He puts me down on something soft, before turning back to the doorway we entered through.

'Colloportus!'

The door seals itself with a familiar squelching noise.

I'm trapped, once again, in a room with a man that hates me.

Same situation, different surroundings.

'Nox.'

The room plunges into darkness as he mutters the incantation. I sit still, very still, not really knowing what to do. I involuntarily hold my breath for fear as the darkness seems to go on forever.

What's he doing? Is he still here?

And then a dark, dingy almost orangey light fills the room to reveal that I'm sitting on a chaise lounge in a very dingy and very creepy Victorian parlour with no windows and one door. It's... it's horrible! Not as horrible as my cell was, but frightening in a different way. It's exactly the sort of place they talk about in children's horror stories; the ones that would terrify me and stop me from sleeping for weeks.

And there are... things in this place. Nasty, foul things dotted around like decorations, on the fireplace, on the floor, on top of little tables. Things like skulls, and dead animals still strangely preserved, and strange dusty bottles which, I am sure, do not contain anything benign.

Lucius comes over to me and flicks his wand at my wrists and at my ankles. The ropes tying them together unravel themselves, falling to the floor. I rub at my wrists, trying to get the sensation back into them, massaging the sore, vulnerable red strips left there by the ropes.

He grips hold of my chin and looks into my face, turning it from side to side.

'Come on then, what's the matter with you?' he asks impatiently.

'What do you care?' I pull my face out of his grip. He said once before that he didn't want to touch me any more than necessary, and the feeling is entirely reciprocated.

'What use would a prisoner who could barely walk be to me?' he says exasperatedly. 'I have plans for you, and they require your good health.'

I should have known that he's not about to cure me because he feels sorry for me.

But then, what's the point in fighting against it? If he genuinely is going to cure me then I'm not about to complain.

I roll off my symptoms robotically, and he nods before turning away, going to the fireplace and conjuring up a fire in the fireplace.

I don't watch him. I can't really see what he's doing, anyway. He's got his back to me and he's blocking my view of the fireplace.

I look around this dark, horrible room. There are so many disgusting things just lying around, anywhere and everywhere. It's almost like Grimmauld place was, but it's worse because at least Grimmauld Place had friends of mine in it, brightening the place up and trying to make it liveable with. When was the last time anyone cleared this place up? There's even some stuff at the foot of the sofa I'm sitting on.

Wait a minute... what the hell is that?

On the floor by the sofa there's a huge, black, dead snake with a knife planted in it. God, it's disgusting! I back off, wanting to get away from it-

Hang on a second... a knife?

I check to see that Lucius' back is still turned before I edge forwards towards the snake again. I reach down, trying not to shudder as I grab the snake's scaly, horrible back and ease the knife slowly out of it. Black blood silently oozes out of the wound, but thankfully it doesn't get on my hands. I back away from the snake, edging silently towards the other end of the chair, wanting to be as far away from the horrible thing as possible. I flick my eyes up to check that Lucius still has his back to me before I flick them back down again to the weapon in my hands.

I look at the knife in my hand. It's not a huge knife, but then it's not small either, and the blade looks very sharp.

Without really thinking about what I'm doing, I slip the knife into a pocket in my robes. I watch Lucius all the while, holding my breath for fear that he'll turn around, but he doesn't see me.

I don't know what I'm going to do with the knife, but I'll have to think of something. I can't let an opportunity to get out of this pass me by, even if it will involve violence.

Are you a killer, Hermione? Would you be prepared to go that far?

I don't know what I'd do anymore, to be honest.

Eventually, Lucius turns and comes over to me, handing me a plain silver goblet.

'Drink this.' His voice is cool and clipped.

I look in to the goblet, and I see that it contains a lilac coloured, creamy potion that lies perfectly still, almost solid looking.

I recognise the potion. I've taken it enough times when I've gone to the hospital wing with flu, or fever, or any regular illness, and I've had to brew it up myself in potions lessons.

But I can't just drink something offered to me by Lucius Malfoy, can I?

He watches me hesitate over the drink.

'What are you waiting for?' he says impatiently. 'I have no need to kill you; not yet anyway.'

'Can you really blame me?' I ask quietly. 'You've hardly treated me well, so far. Why should I trust you?'

I feel a small, sharp burn cross my face, but I don't give any sign that I've felt it at all.

'Don't be insolent,' he says curtly. 'Drink it.'

I slip my hand into my pocket, feeling the blade of the knife sharp against my fingers.

Not yet. Wait a little longer.

I lift the cup up to my lips with my free hand and I gulp the potion down quickly. It's very sweet, almost sickeningly so, but as it seeps through my body I can feel my head clear as the pain ebbs away from me, and my entire body cools down.

He nods as he watches me drain the last of the potion.

'Good. Stand up.'

I put the cup down on the floor and I get to my feet, and I manage it without feeling the slightest bit dizzy. I feel so much better. My head has cleared and I'm at a normal temperature again.

I feel ready to face anything.

Not yet. Plan ahead. Wait.

He looks at me, nodding as he notices my improvement, his face giving nothing away.

What can I do with this knife? This could be the only time I'm going to be alone with him. I have to use this opportunity now, or who knows when another one might come along?

But what can I do about Ron? I can't just get myself out of here without trying to work out how I can help him to escape too.

But then if I wait for him to arrive, if he is going to arrive, then I'll have to face Bellatrix and Dolohov too. It's going to be tricky enough to get past Lucius, let alone two more Death-Eaters.

Sort it out, get things straightened out first. Do it gradually, with one foot in front of the other.

I need to get my bearings first. I need to get the situation clear in my mind before I decide how to act.

'Where's Ron?' First and foremost, this is what I need to know. I need to know how I can save him, too.

His mouth twists up into a contemptuous sneer. 'Quite attached to the boy, aren't you?'

'Where is he?' I snap at him, sick of him taunting me about something that's none of his damn business anyway.

He raises his eyebrows, a smirk creeping over his lips.

'I wonder, does your little friend know what strong reactions he provokes in you?' His low, taunting voice floats around me. 'Is it requited, your burning passion for that whelp?'

My face burns up with embarrassment, and I don't answer him because I won't won't won't give him that satisfaction.

Don't listen to him. They're empty words, meaningless...

'Or,' he goes on remorselessly, 'does he just like to keep you on hand? Does he like to have you around as a back-up plan, if you will, just in case no-one better comes along?'

'No!' I reply hotly.

'No?' He looks deep into my eyes. I can feel him probing into my mind, creeping around, seeping his brain into mine. I blink, once twice, three times, because I can't let him see into my mind, not now. He might see the knife...

He's smiling a warped, almost perverted smile as his eyes bore into mine even as I blink, delving deep and pulling thoughts and memories out of me.

But I don't think he's seen the knife. Not yet.

'I can see someone,' he drawls maliciously. 'Someone's face in your thoughts. It's another girl - a rival for your affections, I think. What's her name?'

I keep quiet, but he doesn't need me to speak. His words bring all that jealousy and all that anger I felt flowing back to me. I blink, but he can still catch the name that burns through my mind.

'Lavender, you say? Ah, a pretty name for a pretty girl.' He withdraws his mind from mine and he moves yet closer to me, his voice so low I can barely hear him. 'No wonder you were so jealous of her. It hurt you, didn't it, that he chose her over you? Someone so simple, with only a tenth of your intelligence.'

'That's not true,' I reply, my words sharp and short.

Lies, Hermione.

'I think it is.' He moves all the more closer to me, coming so close, far too close, almost touching me but not quite. 'I think you realised that he had to choose between the intelligent one and the pretty one, and he chose the pretty one. The pretty, stupid one who had more to offer him than you did.'

I feel the blood pound through my ears as I finger the knife in my pocket and I try to let his words fall around me, wash over me. I don't want to hear them, I don't care about Ron or about Lavender, I don't!

He reaches out to me and brushes a lock of hair slowly away from my face. My body tenses as I feel my hair and his fingers skim lightly over the sensitive skin on the side of my face. 'It's a common failing amongst teenage boys, Mudblood.' His voice is low, too low, and if I didn't know any better I'd think... what would I think? 'They can't see past the physical. They like what they are told to like. They don't yet know their own minds well enough to realise what they want.'

I stand rooted to the spot, almost holding my breath. I don't know what he's talking about, I don't want to know what he's talking about.

'Now tell me,' he goes on remorselessly, 'how did you react to the news that he had chosen someone else over you? Did you pretend you were fine about it all, or did you take revenge? Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, they say, and you have quite a temper on you, as I have seen. I know what option I would have chosen.'

His fingers trace a slow, deliberate line down my cheek from my eyes to my chin as he looks deep into my eyes, and my lungs and stomach are empty as he glides his fingers down my face.

I blink, several times, because I can't let him see my thoughts right now, not with what I'm planning.

'Ah.' He smiles all the wider as he catches my thoughts and takes them into his own, and my heart stops for a moment, but his grin makes me realise that he hasn't seen that deeply into my thoughts. Not enough to see past what he's looking for. 'You chose that immortal revenge tactic, did you? I would have thought that dating his Quiddich rival was a little too Slytherin for you, Miss Granger.'

'What would you know?' I ask, finally breaking my silence and batting his hand away from me. 'You don't know anything about me or my life. How dare you make assumptions about things you know nothing about?'

He points his wand at my face and I feel that stinging, tearing slap again.

'Oh dear.' He continues to smile as he puts his wand back into his robes. 'And there was I, thinking we were having a perfectly pleasant conversation.'

I take a deep breath, using all of my stamina to ignore him.

One foot in front of the other.

'Why are we here?' I ask.

His eyebrows twitch up condescendingly.

'Good god, your curiosity is positively feline.' He tilts his head back slightly in a haughty gesture. 'Our Head-quarters had to be evacuated. Greenham gave our position away after his capture before we could get to him.'

Icy fear trickles down my spine. They're going to blame me for this, I know it! The knowledge floods over me with a feeling of resigned dread.

How dare you feel resigned to it?

He doesn't stop smiling that sick, perverse smile.

'You look a little frightened, Mudblood.' He chuckles lightly at me, and he's still too close, far too close. 'I can't say I blame you. I have been ordered to punish you for your part in this unfortunate event, and as you know I am only ever too pleased to carry out my orders.'

'Why?' I ask, my lungs empty and airless with panic. 'I thought I was telling the truth! Harry must have been where I said he was at the time - the quill said I wasn't lying.'

'That's neither here nor there,' he replies smoothly. 'It was your information that led us here, whether you thought you were telling the truth or not.'

He runs his eyes over me distastefully. 'And now I am stuck out here, in the back end of no-where in this run down old place, with only you for company.'

'Isn't anyone else coming?' My voice is suddenly higher pitched than usual, much to my annoyance.

He smiles at my discomfort; a sick, self satisfied smile. He knows the power of fear he has over me.

'Oh yes. Bella and Antonin will arrive here soon with your little friend. We won't be left alone together for long.' He raises his eyebrows smugly. 'Sorry to disappoint you.'

Bloody arrogant pig!

I take a deep breath. They're going to arrive soon. When?

'When are they going to get here?' I ask.

His face creases into a tiny frown.

'Soon,' he says carefully, his voice very quiet. 'Let that be enough for you. Your morbid curiosity will get you into trouble one day, if you don't learn to control it.'

Breathe, Hermione. He doesn't know, not yet.

I reach into my pocket and feel the knife. I feel the long, silver blade, now warm due to the amount of time I've been holding it. I feel it slip against my fingers.

'I don't know why you're so eager for the boy to arrive.' A small smile flickers onto his face, as if he's genuinely amused by something. 'Mind you, his almost unending stupidity does make you look almost intelligent by comparison. Perhaps that's your reason for wanting him with you-'

'Ron's not stupid!' I snap. How bloody dare he, the arrogant conceited bastard! 'And neither am I.'

'He is stupid,' he replies, his voice full of mocking finality. 'You... well, you've got some basic intelligence, I grant you, but nothing beyond what is the normal level for a Muggle.'

His words sting me into a response.

'I've been told that I'm the best in my year.'

'Oh, you're so proud of that, aren't you?' His voice is low and dangerous, that mocking smile not leaving his face. 'Draco has told me time and time again about your incessant hand raising in class. Do you enjoy showing off your intelligence, inadvertently putting your peers down?'

'No!' My cheeks flush as I respond to that one. 'I put my hand up in class because I know the answer to the questions being asked-'

'Lie to yourself if you must, but not to me.' He cuts across me again. 'At least I am honest about how I see myself as superior to others. You - you can't even be honest to yourself.'

I don't answer him. I just feel the blade in my pocket, slipping my finger tips over the blade.

'So intelligent,' he says quietly, looking me up and down. 'Ruthless too, from what I've heard.'

'What are you talking about?' I'm so confused and he's so close and how am I going to get out of here?

He smiles at me again, and there's something new in his face. Something that could, if I'm not mistaken, be respect.

'I have heard stories about you over the years, Miss Granger. Unpalatable stories.'

What is he going on about?

'For example,' he continues, 'I heard all about that poor Edgecombe girl - about how you disfigured her because she let the cat out of the bag concerning your little Defence against the Dark Arts group.'

I suck in my breath.

'That was a cruel trick.' His voice is low, almost seductive. It creeps around me, robbing me of air and spinning my stomach. 'So clever, but so cruel. Worthy of a Slytherin, in fact. Have you ever considered that you might have done well had the Sorting Hat put you in that house rather than in Gryffindor?'

'No!' I snap.

He smirks slightly.

'No, you're probably right. The best thing about Slytherin is that they don't let Mudbloods in. It's a shame, really - you might have done well in that house if it were not for that one failing-'

'Why is it a failing?' It's my turn to cut across him now. I'm sick of hearing him talk about me like that!

'I have told you why.' He rolls his eyes. 'You have no right to study magic, no right at all. I inherited my talent from my ancestors - some of the greatest witches and wizards that ever walked the earth. You - you're just a throwback.'

'I bloody am not.' I scowl the words at him, and he smiles at the reaction he has provoked in me.

'Oh, really?' He leans forward and puts his hand on my cheek, tangling his fingers into my hair. 'What else would you call yourself, then?'

I ignore the jumping feeling in my chest and I answer him.

'A witch?'

Why did I voice that as a question? It's almost like I don't quite believe it anymore.

'A witch.' He pushes his fingers deeper into my hair, sending tiny shock waves through me. 'I see. I do wonder just how long it will take you to see otherwise.'

For a moment, there's a look in his eye that terrifies me. What is it?

It's like the spark of an idea; a terrible idea, one that has suddenly just come to him. He shakes his head slightly, throwing the look out of his eyes, and he pulls his hand away from my hair.

'Where do you think you got your 'powers' from?' he asks me quietly. 'Blood is so very important. Blood is what transfers power from wizard to wizard. Blood is the most important thing in the magical world. I would have thought that one of your supposed intelligence would be aware of that.'

Blood. The word takes me back a few days. I can smell Ron's blood again; I can see it bright before my eyes. I can see his thumb lying on the floor, an inanimate, dead object. It turns my stomach over, over and over again and I feel sick. Ron's thumb. I cut it off.

Lucius watches me, a horrible smirk on his face.

'You're remembering what you did, aren't you?' His voice is heavy with callous enjoyment. It tears holes in me. His words make me want to cry. 'You're remembering how you cut the thumb off of the useless boy's hand.'

Every instinct I have screams at me to shout at him, to scream out my rage and to hurt him, make him bleed and scream and oh yes, it would feel so good to plunge that knife into him right now.

But I don't. I need to keep my temper, if I'm going to use this knife to effect. I can't just lash out, or I'll lose control.

'How can you stand there and taunt me about that?' My voice is calm and still, like his own. Perhaps I could get through to him if I can keep my emotions under control like he does. 'How can you treat people like that?'

'Because I can.' He rolls his eyes as he replies, as if he's tired of my attempts to discover any humanity he might possess. 'Now, I think it's time for you to go to bed, little girl.'

'I'm seventeen,' I snap at him. I'm sick of him patronising me like that.

He sneers at me. 'You wouldn't know it, from the way you behave.'

He makes to grab at my arm.

Now, Hermione. This is your only chance!

I don't know when Ron's going to get here, or where we are, but I need to use this now otherwise I'll never get out of here, never.

I close my fingers around the handle of the knife and I rip it out of my pocket and hold it up to him, pointing it straight into his face.

I can't quite explain the reaction I see on his face. I expected real fear, and although fear definitely flickers over it, tightening his face and making him draw breath, it's gone in a second to be replaced by the smallest of smiles and eyes full of mocking.

'Oh dear, how very foolish you can be.' His voice is low and perfectly still.

'Aren't you scared?' I hiss at him, my hand shaking like mad in front of his face, the knife wobbling dangerously. I take a deep breath to try and steady myself.

'My dear girl, why on earth should I be scared?' His smile spreads, widens.

'I could kill you.' I spit the words at him, trying to stir up some fear in him.

How am I going to do this if he's not even afraid of me?

'And that should scare me?' he asks, his voice low with challenge. 'Do it!'

I take all my breath in very suddenly.

Can I do it?

I should do it, after everything he's done to me, and to Ron. I should cut him into a thousand pieces for everything he's done.

But... it's another person! I can't be like him, I can't be a murderer.

Do it, Hermione! He deserves it!

He watches me in silence. That smile doesn't leave his face as he watches me deliberate with myself.

He knows that I can't do it. He knows!

'Well go on, then.' He's goading me. He's so sure that I won't do it that he's goading me. 'You want to, don't you? After everything I've done to you, you must want to. But I'm curious - after you've killed me how do you plan on getting across the lake without anyone to help you?'

'Shut up!' I hiss, my hand shaking like nothing else as my plan starts to crumble around my ears.

He laughs at me, a low chuckle of mocking. I move my hand forward, planting the blade against his cheek. The blade glints silver on his pale skin, and he stops laughing, his eyes flickering down to the blade before moving back to me. The smile still remains but there's a slight amount of fear in his eyes, and oh yes, it's my turn now, you bastard!

'I'll strike up a deal with you, Lucius.' The power is mine now. If I can just keep my nerve, then I can get out of this.

'Ah, a negotiation,' he replies. I get the feeling he's almost enjoying himself. Almost. 'Well, I'm listening, Mudblood. What's your proposition?'

He speaks with such a calm confidence. Why isn't he more afraid?

'I want you to give me your wand,' I say, keeping my voice calm and firm and I'm not shaking and I'm not scared.

Not at all.

'For what?' He's almost laughing at me. 'So that you can Apparate out of here? Tell me, if Apparation was possible within this cave, do you really think I would have bothered to take you across the lake?'

I take a deep breath. I didn't think of that. He could be lying, but I doubt that he is. Why would he bother risking his life on the water if he could have just Apparated in here?

'Right then.' Keep going, keep going, don't stop now. 'Well... I want you to take me across the river.'

He smiles. 'Or what?'

'Or I'll kill you!' I tighten my grip on the knife, pushing it further into the skin, but not tearing it. Not yet.

'Oh, I see.' His voice is still drawling, still calm, and he doesn't understand that I'm in control now, me! 'A bargain for my life. How very original of you. But I feel I should warn you, your escape will not put me in the best of moods. And who knows who I might take my bad temper out on?'

Damn! He could use Ron to get me to do anything, and he knows that I'd have to go along with it.

'I'm not going to let you go once we get over there!' My voice is shaking, completely going against my strong words. 'You'll take me over the river, and then you'll come with me and turn yourself in to the Order, and then you'll tell them exactly where this place is so that they can come back here and rescue Ron.'

He actually starts to laugh at me then.

'So you expect me to give myself up in exchange for my life?' He laughs, and the blade flashes in my hand as his cheek moves it. 'And why on Earth would you expect me to do that? Death is preferable to life imprisonment. I'd rather die than let the guards of Azkaban get their hands on me again. So go ahead - stab me, kill me! What are you waiting for? Do it!'

I tense up, willing myself to do it, willing myself to hurt him, to stab him, cut him, tear him. To destroy him, to destroy him like he's destroyed me.

But... I can't. No matter how hard I try to push myself, I can't do it. I'm not a killer.

He laughs at me as I struggle with myself, the blade shaking across his cheek.

'You can't, can you? You just don't have the nerve.' He laughs all the more as I try to keep my hand steady, trying to harden myself. Do it do it do it! 'You're nothing but a stupid little girl playing with adult's toys. Although maybe I've only got myself to blame. It was me who taught you how to use a knife in the first place, wasn't it?'

All the horrible memories of how I planted the knife in my own leg, how I cut off my own best friend's thumb under his command, and everything else - my burning hand, broken fingers, Ron's screams, my screams, his blood my blood and pain pain pain - all those memories come screaming back to me, ripping up to the surface and his face burns in front of me, and I hate hate hate him! I want him to die! Who cares? He deserves it!

I bring back my hand to plant the knife in his chest, but he catches my wrist before the blade can reach him. I don't have time to think. I kick out wildly in front of me, catching him by the shin. He sucks in his breath and his grip on my wrist loosens. I wrench myself out of his grasp, still managing to hold on to the knife. He grabs hold of me, trying to grip on to my arms, my waist, my hair, but I fight so hard against him, knowing that this is my only chance. I try to wrestle out of his grip, I try to get away from him, but he grabs hold of me by the waist, and no! I won't let him take this chance from me, I have to have to have to-

I slam the knife into his arm.

Oh my god! Ohmygodohmygod!

A yell rips from his mouth, a yell of pain and horror as he doubles over slightly, gripping at the place where the knife remains planted in his arm. Blood spills out of the wound, over his hand, and I back away from him, horrified and numb and nothing makes sense, and oh my god shit! I can't believe I just did that, I'm... I'm... Oh my God!

He clamps his mouth shut, breathing harshly through his nose, and he rips the knife from his arm, his face contorted with agony. He looks up at me with such raw, dangerous, terrible hatred. It's such a terrifying expression, and I'm more scared in this moment than I have ever been before, because now it's personal, now it really is personal. This isn't just a fight between a prisoner and a captive anymore, no, now it's him and me and me and him and that's all there is in this, just me and him.

'You little muggle BITCH!'

I turn then, turn away from that roar of naked hatred and I run. I don't know where, but I can't let him get to me, not now, not now. Everything's changed, and I changed it, oh my god!

I stumble to the door, pulling and pulling at the handle, screaming 'let me out', but to no-one, there's no-one but him. But it won't shift and I'm stuck, and oh, nooooo!

I feel his hands grab on to my shoulders and spin me around, and I see his face before me, twisted and white with rage and hate, and I see his fist before my eyes before it hits me, crushing into my face.

I fall to the floor, lights flashing before my eyes and my face is broken, smashed, and I can't bear the pain, the never-ending pain, but he's not finished. He crouches above me, grabbing me by the collar of my robes with one hand and slamming the other into my face, again and again and again, breaking bones, tearing skin, and pain crashes into me and he sinks his booted foot into my stomach and my chest and he hits me over and over, punctuating his hits with words of hate.

'You stupid, disgusting little bitch!' His fist slams into my face, my nose is bleeding, and I'm screaming and sobbing, and my face is torn, I can taste, smell, feel blood. 'When I'm through with you, believe me, you will wish you'd never been born!'

He stops then, finally letting go of me and letting me fall to the floor. I feel the world spin around me, and oh god, my face! I know nothing but blood and pain. He stands up, grabbing me by the hair, yanking my head back to face him, and my scalp burns and everything is pain, everything.

'I shall see you suffer for this,' he says, so quietly, his voice harsh in my ear. 'I shall punish you - I shall enjoy watching you suffer for that little stunt.' He looks down into my face, watching me as I try to stop the tears from running down my face, and his own face is so contorted with white hot fury that he doesn't even look human anymore. 'You should be careful,' he says quietly, 'or one day you'll push me too far and I really will murder you.'

I don't doubt for a second that he really means it.

He drags me by the hair and out of the room, along the corridor until eventually he opens a door, and pushes me into a dark room, shutting me in there and locking the door as he leaves me alone in the dark.