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Memories of Deception	By : professorflo Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 20869 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters within. I make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Memories of Deception
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9.
- 10-10
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- 1
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Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

After a few moments Hermione pushed herself up off the worn carpet and grabbed the tray. May as well see what I've got to work with, she thought. After washing the dishes in the large sink, she made herself a few pieces of toast and set to exploring the kitchen.

After a thorough search, she had found little of any use except a few sharp knives and a cupboard full of cleaning supplies. There were two small pantries full of food, one with a charm on to keep the air cold and preserve the meat and other perishable items inside. Hermione wondered how she would be expected to keep it stocked. Probably one of those irritating questions that I am not allowed to ask, but will be punished for not asking when he has nothing left to eat, she thought bitterly.

Out of the cleaning cupboard she pulled a duster and a rag, along with some muggle cleaning sprays. The block of knives on the counter caught her eye again. I wonder if he would notice if I took one. Not that I have anywhere to hide it in this dress. She touched the smallest handle, thinking about where she could hide it. A burning pain shot up through her hand and she knocked the block flying. Knives flew across the counter as the block hit the wall. Clutching her hand beneath her breasts Hermione peered down at it, looking for the burn. Nothing, except the shackle marks left there on her wrist from the previous night. Her hand shook as she extended her arm and examined it carefully. A hex, she thought. Bastard! There goes that plan. Andhow am I supposed to prepare mealswithout a knife to chopwith?

It took her a moment to realise that she had already used the larger bread knife already that morning, when preparing Snape's breakfast. I wonder… She gingerly placed the block upright and reached out to touch the bread knife, intending only to tidy it away. When her hand closed around the handle without a repeat of the earlier, nasty shock she sighed with relief.

It's hexed only to burn when I intend harm with it, she thought. Bloody man thinks of everything. Carefully she tidied the rest of the knives away, taking care to keep her mind off what she would like to do to Snape if given the chance.

Placing the cleaning supplies into a bucket she had found behind the door, Hermione left the kitchen. Where to start, she wondered. I'll clean as I search. No point in rousing his anger any more. A shiver went through her at the thought of her pending punishment. Whatever he did, it couldn't be much worse than what she had already been through at his hands the previous night. No, don't think of that, not yet, a little voice whispered. Got to be strong.

Slowly she turned the handle of the first room she came to, and pushed it open. Back in the bathroom again, she eyed up the large bath, longing to turn it on and relax her sore muscles for a while. Hermione decided to move on to the next room and leave the bathroom for last. If she was quick going through the rest of the rooms she would have a quick bath. She felt disgustingly dirty, despite having been dragged half-senseless from her room and flung underneath the showerhead that hung over the bath the previous night. A few minutes of huddling under the cold water had barely rinsed away the filth and none of the disgust she felt, before she had been dragged back out. A quick drying spell had been waved over her shivering body and then she had been pushed back into the room that she assumed was to be hers.

The last thing she remembered was being pressed down on the small, hard bed in the corner, and diving under the blanket, wrapping herself away from his merciless eyes as fast as she could. He had leaned over her as she cringed away from him, half expecting a repeat performance. "Close your eyes," he had demanded. She had complied quickly, glad for the excuse to shut out the sight of his hard, unfeeling face. She crouched on the bed tensely, waiting for his next move. There had been a slight rustle, and then… nothing?

Hermione wrinkled her eyebrows in thought. She couldn't remember anything after that until she had been woken up so rudely. He must have knocked her unconscious with a silent spell, she realised, but why? She was grateful at least for having had a decent rest, for without the spell she was sure she would have laid awake all night, and still have been a sobbing wreck this morning. He obviously needed me fit and able to work this morning. He didn't do it out of any concern my well-being.

That mystery solved, she suddenly remembered something else. My wrists… Dropping the bucket and holding both arms out in front of her, palms up, she examined them with growing astonishment. But… how? After her capture she had been shackled for hours in a small room underneath Malfoy Manor. Her wrist and ankles had been left sore and bleeding, and there had been more than a few kicks aimed at her body and legs over the course of the day.

Why was she not sore and aching? She should have had difficulty moving this morning, but her wrists had only a slight band of slightly tender, dark skin when they had previously been oozing blood. She touched the skin gently. Looking down at her ankles she realised they were barely marked either, and quickly pulling up her dress she noted with confusion that the bruises on her legs and side were a dull greeny-brown. They looked a few days old at least.

How could that be? She had only been captured late the previous night, and had spent the day at the manor, first chained to the wall, and then…

**flashback**

A slap across the face roused her from her stupor, and when her head cleared she looked up into the sneering face of Lucius Malfoy.

"I see I have the … pleasure… of welcoming dirty mudbloods into my home once again," he leered. "I hope you enjoy the evening's entertainment. I know I will. This evening more than usual." He cast his eyes down her body as she shivered under his gaze. With a flick of a plain black wand the tattered remains of her clothes disappeared, and she tried to pull her arms and legs in to cover herself, but they were bound tight by metal shackles. Malfoy reached out his hand to grope her, squeezing hard enough to bruise before smirking at her horror and discomfort at the feel of his hands. He stepped away.

"I imagine you are extremely eager to join us all upstairs, where of course you will have the honour of being allowed into the presence of the Dark Lord himself. I'm sure he will enjoy your company this evening."

Hermione barely had time to make a sound of dismay at his words, before, with another wave of his wand, the shackles on her wrists and ankles opened, and she fell forwards, her legs weak from the unnatural position she had been left in for so long. She fell hard, hitting the floor with her knees and elbows as Lucius deftly stepped out of the way. Touching the wounds on her wrists numbly, she heard Lucius speak again.

"Bring her upstairs, Wormtail. And no touching, you filthy rat. Not until the Dark Lord has finished with her at least."

With a start he noticed the other…man… in the room, cowering rodent-like in the shadows behind Lucius. The blonde-haired man glanced down at her exposed body on the floor, before turning and stalking away, exiting the room though a narrow door on the opposite side.

Wormtail lunged at her, sinking his long nails into the flesh of her upper arm as he dragged her to her feet. She tried to pull out of his grip, disgusted by the cold clammy feeling of his hand on her skin, but his wand was immediately at her throat. "Just give me a reason, go on. I'd love to get my hands on more than the other's leftovers for once." His tongue darted out to lick his lips as he looked down at her with twisted desire. "No? Best not keep them waiting then."

He pushed her roughly through the door, his hand still wrapped firmly round her arm, and up a steep flight of steps into a dim corridor barely less dark and dank than the cellar she had just left. Panic was starting to rise in her throat, and her stomach was heaving. This is it, she thought. What are the chances of me leaving this place in one piece? She kept her thoughts carefully away from what she suspected might happen to her before the night was through, or she would have thrown up there and then, despite her best efforts to keep her terror under control.

Wormtail dragged her towards the door at the end of the corridor, while she tried her hardest to talk herself into a measure of authority over her gibbering emotions. Stand up straight, courage. You're a Gryffindor. You've been in bad situations before and always got out. Don't shame yourself and give them what they want to see, they will humiliate you enough without you adding to it. Damn, what I would give for my wand. She took a last hurried breath and pushed her feelings into the tightest ball she could as they stepped through the doorway.

She stepped out into a large room, elegantly furnished, though, like darkly lit and dreary. What is it with these people? Just because they're bad doesn't mean they all have to like their houses cold, dark and furnished in grey and black. The thought made her lips quirk slightly before her attention was captured by the number of people standing in small groups scattered around the room. Slowly, as more of them spotted her and her escort, the quiet murmuring around the room faded into silence.

Wormtail released his grip and motioned with his wand across the room. She decided to take the initiative and stepped in front of him, walking slowly, with her head held up across the room, to where she could see the back of Lucius Malfoy, standing next to another figure in dark robes. She was someone who thrived on control. The situation was out of her hands, but at least she had some authority over how she would meet the terror awaiting her. As she passed the other groups of Death-Eaters the few women flicked their robes away from her in disgust, while the men leered at the side of her dirty body on display.

Nearing her destination, she realised with a start that there was another figure, hidden behind Lucius and the other man. Voldemort. Her stomach clenched again, and she almost swayed on her feet. The blonde Death-Eater finally noticed her arrival and turned to meet her with a twist of his lips, but she only had eyes for the snake behind him.

"Aahhhh, Potter's mudblood friend, come to join the fun." The Death-Eaters standing close enough to hear chortled softly. "Ooh, but what a brave little Griffindor, looking her betters in the eyes. Shall we teach her the proper way to greet her Lord?" Without waiting for an answer he waved his wand and hissed. At once, Hermione's felt invisible ropes wrap around her limbs and body. She was dragged down to her knees, her torso pulled backwards and her head back as far as it could go, while her arms were pulled out to the sides so hard she felt her muscles creak.

A ripple of laughter spread through the room, and Hermione's eyes filled with tears at the searing pain in her muscles. "Now that you have been show the correct way to present yourself, we can decide what to do with you. After we determine the whereabouts of Harry Potter, of course."

"Shit! Shit! Shit! panicked Hermione. What if he looks in your mind. You have no chance of keeping him out. Voldemort loomed over her, and with bone-deep terror she realised that he was about to do exactly that. A narrowing of his snake-like eyes was all the warning she got before her head exploded with pain.

Flashes of times she had spent with Harry raced by: the boys and her, laughing over some lame joke of Ron's in the common room; Harry and Ron stuffing themselves at a feast, while she surreptitiously tried to read a book while joining in the conversation just enough for them not to notice and tease her; relaxing together and discussing classes for the next year in her bedroom in Grimauld Place.

Not what he wanted. The images flickered faster: Snape smacking Harry over the head with a thick book in a potions class; Harry with his face scrunched up in pain as he told them he was leaving to rescue Sirius at the Ministry; his face covered with tears as he described Snape killing Dumblebore.

She heard a snarl from Voldemort as he pressed himself in further, still unable to find what he was looking for. Memories flashed through her consciousness so fast she could barely see them, as he invaded every corner of her mind. She became aware of both sounds at the same time; a loud screaming sound almost drowning out a growing shout of frustration. Harry, Harry, HARRY, HAARRRRYY! At the same moment she realised the scream was coming from her own lips, she hit an invisible wall in her mind. Both herself and Voldemort slammed into it with numbing force, and her mind folded in on itself and everything faded to white.

She came to a while later. As she floated back up to consciousness she tried her best to stay still and not to groan at the pain lacing through her head. As soon as the world had stopped spinning she cracked her eyes open to try and determine where she was.

She seemed to be lying curled up on a table, in an unfamiliar room. There was whispering coming from the far end of the rooms, above her head. Voldemort, she realised. She would never be able to forget that snake-like hiss. Whatever was being discussed, he did not sound happy. Hermione suddenly jerked at a familiar name… "Severusss…" With dismay she recalled the dark man who had been standing next to Lucius Malfoy. She hadn't glanced at him, her eyes had been fixed on Voldemort, but she knew now that it was him. Despite her hatred of him, she shook with the shame at the thought of being seen, trussed up and naked, by the man who had ridiculed her talent and sneered at her capabilities continually for the past six years.

His smooth tone pierced the quiet of the room, and she strained to hear him.

"My Lord, her mind has obviously been tampered with recently, I assume to hide whatever information she possesses that may help us to find and destroy Potter. If my Lord agrees, I would suggest that…" his voice lowered and Hermione could no longer make his words out.

"Yessss, Serverusss, your plan pleases me. I will allow you to take her. I will inform you to bring when to bring her back here, and you will keep me informed of your progress. Make sure you teach her how to behave, and see to it that she is punished for any misdeeds appropriately. If you do not deal with her properly I will have to turn her over to Lucius. His appetites are insatiable and he has been begging me to break the mudblood bitch in."

"I assure you, my Lord, I will make sure she does not enjoy her time with me. That insufferable know-it-all brat has plagued my life for six long years and I look forward to spending some more time with her now that I am allowed to instruct her...properly."

There was a rustle of robes as the two wizards drew closer to her. Hermione tensed, waiting for something to happen.

"Ahh," Voldemort whispered, "I see our little mudblood is awake and listening avidly to our conversation. It looks like she is in need of her next lesson. 'Crucio'!"

**End Flashback**

Please let me know what you think. I have never written any type of fiction before and it would be useful to hear from others.
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Memories of Deception