Chapter 1 : Imprisonment
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“You’ll never get away with this,” she growled.
When she struggled to free herself, he simply sat, laughing at her vain attempts. “Try as you might, you’re not going anywhere, Mudblood, at least not yet,” he sneered from atop her back. “Now just be good and it will all be over soon. Who knows? You might even get to meet the authors of those books you cling to so disgustingly hard. Say ‘hi’ to old Willy Shakespeare for me.”
She tried to use his momentary distraction to step-up her struggle, but her actions only earned her a hard jab between her shoulder blades with his elbow.
He leaned forward again, crushing her body closer to the unforgiving floor. His warm breath tickled her neck causing the reappearance of her shivers. “Does he know how he’s affecting me?” she wondered. Her mind gave her the answer. “Likely, but don’t let it show. He would definitely use it against you.”
She steeled herself as another wave of shudders rushed through her body, this time caused by his one word, “Careful.” He slowly raised himself until he was sitting straight up again. “I don’t believe the Dark Lord would be too happy with damaged goods, but I have orders to hold you here by all means necessary. Those orders are the only reason I’m touching such a filthy being.”
“Is that all I am to you? A good to be transported from place to place?”
“To me? Yes. But obviously the Dark Lord has other plans for you or else I wouldn’t be wasting my time with you when I could be helping to kill off Wonder Boy Potter and the Weasel.”
“Then why are you wasting your time when you could put a body-bind curse or the Imperious curse on me and just walk away?” she wheedled, hoping that he would bite her bait.
“You think I will fall for that pathetic mind trick? You think wrong. I know that you would fight off those curses, and then I’d pay for my foolishness along side you. So just shut your dirty mouth before I do it for you.”
“Is that a threat, Malfoy? I didn’t know that wimps like you were capable of making those.”
“That’s enough, Granger!” He pulled her head up by her hair and then bashed it against the floor, knocking her into utter blackness.
The feeling of riding in a stagecoach awoke Hermione from her state of unconsciousness. Her eyes fluttered open just enough to get a glimpse of her current situation. She was being carried by a man wearing a swishing black robe. He was flanked on either side by two other men who were also dressed in black. The men were running towards an old, almost abandoned-looking mansion that was surrounded by an iron fence. She immediately recognized it as Malfoy Manor.
“Parkinson, hurry up with the girl! Can’t keep the Dark Lord waiting, now can we?” sneered a cold voice, much like the one she remember from just before she was knocked out.
“Yes, Mr. Malfoy. No, Mr. Malfoy,” called out the trembling voice of her holder.
As they passed through the gate, Hermione saw a flash of blue light momentarily cover the archway. The doorway ahead opened to reveal a tall man with graying blonde hair. “Very good, Parkinson,” he sneered with an air of authority. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as they approached the magnificent oak doors.
“This way,” a female voice called. Hermione was carried in and roughly laid on what she figured to be a fainting couch.
“This is the girl, I presume,” an even colder voice said/
“Yessir. Hermione Granger, sir,” replied Parkinson, trembling audibly.
An unfamiliar voice spoke up, “My Lord, why do you want the girl? She is only a foolish Mudblood.”
“Fool! Do you not know who she is?”
“Her name’s Hermione Granger, sir. She belongs to the house of Gryffindor and is Muggle-born.”
“I’m losing patience with you, MacNair. She is Harry Potter’s friend, and a very close one, too. She may be able to be persuaded to tell us his plans, and if not, she will serve as very good bait. Her little ‘friends’ will come rushing to find her and when they do, we can attack.”
“A very good plan, my Lord. Well thought out.”
“You expect anything less from me?” Voldemort roared.
“No, sir. Of course not, sir. I was simply stating it was a very good plan, sir. Better than anything that I could think of.”
“That’s because you’re a dimwit, MacNair.”
“Of course, my Lord. The only one who could rival your intelligence is Dumbledore, my Lord.”
“Are you suggesting that I am inferior to Dumbledore?”
“No, my Lord, merely that Dumbledore may be slightly more intelligent than you. After all, he is the headmaster of Hogwarts.”
“How dare you!” roared Voldemort. A muttered curse, accompanied by a blinding flash of green light and a thump, and MacNair was dead.
“What shall we do with the girl, my Lord?” said the chilling voice of Lucius Malfoy.
“You may do with her what you please. I suggest taking her to a bed. And, Lucius, make sure she is treated well. We should not give her any more reasons to despise us.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
Hermione was lifted and carried away to a room where she was placed gently onto a bed. Exhausted from her long day, she fell asleep immediately.
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