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Weave a Circle Round Him Thrice	By : SRaven_Underhill Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 14494 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
AN: Thank you to Nerys who reviewed the last chapter and who provided helpful feedback :)

On a side note, I won’t be able to write chapter 3 until next weekend, so it will be over a week until the next update.

Reviews really brighten my day and inspire me to write more :D *hint hint*

Chapter II: Dubious Plots

            Hermione had been left alone in her cell for what seemed like ages. Civilizations had surely risen and fallen during the time she had been left there. She had managed to sleep for a few hours, when her tired and traumatized brain had finally shut down. She woke up as the coldness seeped into her bones, the measly wool blanket on the floor doing little to shield her from the stones that pushed into her side. She stared at the ceiling, which looked very similar to the floor, and considered her escape plan. One thing was for sure, if she were left down there to rot, there wouldn’t be much of a contingency plan.

            She was just congratulating herself over her ability to remain calm when she heard footsteps echoing down the corridor. She scrambled up into a sitting position and leaned against the back wall, trying to look casual. She was worried, afraid even, but she would be damned if they saw it. The footsteps grew louder as she waited. She knew the footsteps didn’t belong to Lord Voldemort, though she couldn’t explain how she knew such a thing. Perhaps she imagined him as a sans shoes kind of wizard. Her eyes widened as she saw Draco appear on the other side of the bars. Hermione stood, brushing the dirt off of her dress.

            “Draco?” It seemed to be the only appropriate greeting, as ‘hey’ was something that seemed more suited for casual conversations in the Great Hall and less appropriate when speaking to a Death Eater who was currently enforcing your captivity.

            “Granger,” Draco said, though it lacked the usual vibrato and aristocratic snootiness. “The Dark Lord wants to see you.”

            “And instead of coming down here to speak to me, he sends you?” Hermione said, crossing her arms over her chest.

            “Look, Granger. Your attitude is going to get you killed,” he said in a harsh whisper. “You need to come with me quietly and do as he says. He isn’t exactly patient and if he decides that you are more trouble than you’re worth…” Draco leaned his forehead against one of the metal bars for a moment before pulling out his wand and unlocking the door.

            Hermione studied him for a moment before walking to the front of the cell. She didn’t exactly like Draco, but she didn’t want to create trouble for him either. He still pointed his wand at her, binding her hands behind her back as a black blindfold slipped over her eyes. He probably thought she wasn’t above fighting him with her bare hands, and if he had been someone else, he would have been right.

            He led her up the stairs (where she only stumbled a few times) and through the manor without another word. After a few minutes they stopped and Draco knocked on a door. The only response she heard was the slight creaking of door hinges. Draco led her through, and moments after she heard footsteps and the heavy thud of the door closing behind him.

            It was unnerving to know that someone, presumably the Dark Lord, sat in the room, but wasn’t making any noise. She couldn’t hear the rustle of robes or even his breathing, only the steady crackle of the fireplace. She shifted her feet, beginning to feel awkward.

            “I believe I prefer you like this, Ms. Granger,” the Dark Lord whispered into her ear.

            Caught completely by surprise, Hermione jumped and emitted a tiny yelp. The Dark Lord chuckled.

            “Silent and waiting for my direction,” he continued.

            She could feel him walk around her now, the silk of his robes brushing against her bare legs. Hermione scowled beneath the blindfold. He moved away from her and the blindfold lifted, breaking the spell that bound her wrists as well. She blinked several times, her eyes adjusting to the light. Voldemort sat in a plush green chair next to the fire.

            “Sit,” he said, gesturing to the floor space in front of him.

            Clenching both teeth and fists, Hermione slowly walked over and sat down in front of him, crossing her legs and her arms. He smirked.

            “Did you bring me out of the dungeons for small talk and silly games? Or was there a real reason?” She said.

            “Crucio,” Voldemort said softly with a slight twist of his wand.

            Hermione became a tangle of limbs as the curse tore through her body. She screamed and clawed at the floor as the Dark Lord stared down at her, emotionless. When her screams became unintelligible murmurings, he lifted it. Hermione’s body shuddered in the aftermath as she took big gulps of air.

            “Perhaps you have forgotten your place, mudblood,” he said, as if admonishing a small child.

            Hermione struggled into a half sitting position. Somewhere, Draco Malfoy was whispering, ‘I told you so.’ She was sure of it. Since she wasn’t up for being on the receiving end of another crucio, she simply looked up at him.

            “Better,” he said after a few moments of silence. “I’ve brought you out of the dungeons in order to tell you that you have been sacrificed to the cause, for the greater good, so to speak.”

            Well, technically Draco had brought her out of the dungeons, but she thought it wise not to argue over semantics. “Sacrificed to the cause?” She asked, hoping he would elaborate.

            “You see, it seems that the Order finds you quite expendable, Ms. Granger,” he studied her expression for a moment before continuing. “They aren’t coming to recue you from my clutches. Do you think Potter will go rogue in order to save you?” His smile was smug and his gloating obvious.

            She hoped he wasn’t serious. Hadn’t Harry always gone rogue? “And does this mean I’m expendable to you as well?”

            “Not yet,” he said.

            There was something in his eyes that she didn’t like, a flicker of malice combined with a dubious plot. So, while she was still allowed to continue breathing, there was perhaps something far worse in store for her. She hoped Harry wouldn’t put off searching for horcruxes to come and find her, though she had to admit he sometimes suffered from a hero complex. He meant too much to her and she hoped he made the right decision. She carefully adverted her eyes from Voldemort’s. He couldn’t know about their quest to destroy his horcruxes. She needed a crash course on occlumency.

            She hadn’t seen the Dark Lord give any signal, but nevertheless, Draco strode back into the room. The firelight accentuated the dark circles under his eyes, making him seem vaguely corpse-like.

            “Take her back to her cell, Draco,” he said, waving his hand dismissively.

            Draco bowed and pulled Hermione up off of the floor, using the same spells as before to bind her hands and blindfold her. Because making a mad dash for the front door was a definite possibility. Hermione took advantage of the blindfold and rolled her eyes. He said nothing as he half dragged her back to the dungeons. Once she was back inside the cell, Draco removed the enchantments and locked the cell door. He stared at her through the bars and opened his mouth as if to say something, but reconsidered and quickly strode back down the corridor without so much as a backward glance.

            She sat huddled on her makeshift bed since her body was still sore from the curse. Had the Order really abandoned her? Was Voldemort trying to turn her against her friends? Had the Order spread false information in order to deceive him? It was difficult to say. Regardless, he wanted something from her, which was perhaps the most disturbing news of the day. She wasn’t sure what he thought she could offer him, but perhaps it could mean a chance for her to escape or even kill him. The thought stunned her, she hadn’t really considered killing anyone before. Could she go through with it if given the chance? It would be stupid of her to pass up such an opportunity if it presented itself.

            She rolled over onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. He had never mentioned why she wasn’t expendable to him. In fact, that entire encounter was rather odd. Hermione mulled it over for quite some time, attempting to dissect Voldemort’s actions and words. She came up empty handed.

            Many hours passed in which the only other being she saw was a house elf that brought her a small plate of food and a cup of water. She nibbled at it half-heartedly and wondered if this would be her daily schedule; sit in a cell most of the day, have peculiar meetings with the Dark Lord, eat meager leftovers. However, little did she know then that it would become far worse. Days passed and became weeks. She ate what the house elf brought her, she slept on and off, and yet no one came. It became easy to imagine that she was alone there in the small cell, that the world simply didn’t exist past those stone walls. She kept herself sane by thinking about Harry and Ron. She hoped they were safe.

            No one was coming for her.

***

            Harry and Ron sat at the kitchen table of 12 Grimmauld Place.

            “We need Hermione,” Harry said, cupping his chin in his hand.

            “But how do we even find her? We don’t know where she is,” Ron sighed.

            “It just doesn’t feel right, planning this break in to the Ministry, we should be trying to find her,” Harry stared down at the table.

            The silence stretched between them, but it was eventually decided that they would continue with their plan to break into the Ministry. After, hopefully, finding the locket, they would focus their efforts on finding Hermione.

            Harry sat on the couch later that evening, staring at the golden snitch floating in front of him. It was his fault that Hermione was captured. He was trying to protect everyone and it was all happening so quickly. If anything happened to her, he would never forgive himself.
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Weave a Circle Round Him Thrice