Author's Note: Hi! I'm Raz! [Warning: I have a tendency to ramble...] Until about a month ago I was completely oblivious to the whole world of fan fics (*collective gasp* I know--poor deprived me!) but I followed Maline from the North Tower's recommendation to Helga von Nutwimple @ fanfiction.net, read her 2 Hr-Sn fics and decided that, in the world of fiction, age doesn't matter, as well as getting interested in fan fiction! So here's my first ever fanfic, a Hr-Sn in tribute! Hope you like it and please comment!
Also, a heads-up: this isn't really going to get started until Chapter 2, so please don't get fed up with me 'til then!

Disclaimer: Most of the characters and the background setting used in this story were created by J. K. Rowling, and are owned by her and not me!

Now, on a darker note...

***


“Your father tells me that you are still in school, Draco… That you attend Hogwarts.�
“Yes, Lord.�
They were in the parlor of the Malfoys’ castle. Draco was standing before the empty grate, pale, but composed. His father sat in a chair off to the side, smiling in anticipation, and before him was the Dark Lord: long, spidery hands steepled and eyes gleaming malevolently.
“And I imagine that you see a good deal of Harry Potter?�
“Some.� said Draco cautiously, a faint curl now visible in his lip.
“Excellent. I want you to tell me about Potter’s close friends.�
“Weasley –Ronald Weasley-“ Draco said quickly, trying to mask his surprise, but very obviously relieved to know what he was wanted for, “and Hermionie Granger. A muggle girl,� he added, at a gesture from his father.
“Yess… You have heard of the incident at the Ministry? What of those others who followed him?�
“They are loyal to him, my Lord. But Potter—“
“Is there any love interest for dear Harry among them?�
“None of them, but he’s gone out with a Ravenclaw girl, Cho Chang. Fifth year.� Draco said smoothly.
“He is serious about her?�
Draco went a shade paler. “I do not know, my Lord.�
“Very well. Your willingness will be remembered, Draco.� The Dark Lord dismissed him, smiling wolfishly. Draco bowed awkwardly and hurried out.
Voldemort sat quiet a moment, and then turned to his Death Eater. “I want Potter, Lucius: I believe he is the key to cracking Dumbledore.�
“Harry Potter will not be lured away so easily again, my Lord… He feels responsible for the death of Black and for the injuries of his friends; he is warier…�
“Yes, but if he knew we had one of them; if he knew for sure, would he not try to save them?�
“Dumbledore himself would stop the boy, Lord.�
“He will not know.� Voldemort asserted, smiling thinly. “I am entrusting you with this task, Lucius; be sure that you succeed. You must take the muggle girl. It is summer; she will be cut off from her friends, and unprotected. Be certain that you control everyone she lives with. Modify their memories, and hers. If she has an owl, kill it.�
“Very good, my Lord.�

Author’s Note: I just wanted to say something in case anybody is raising their eyebrows… While perusing the Romance section today, I came across a (quite good) fic put up a few days earlier than mine by Gothic_Girl82 which, to my horror, seemed to have the same base plot as mine! I only read part of the first chapter (I stopped so I couldn’t be influenced by the story) but from what I did read, it looked like the Malfoys were going to kidnap Hermione, and Snape was going to have to save her! Our stories are just so similar that it seems like it can’t be coincidence, but I assure you, it is no more than an unfortunate twist of fate! However, I’d like to take this chance to express my regrets to Gothic_Girl82 anyway: I do apologize for this unlucky oddity! (And I look forward to reading your story once I’ve done mine!)
Speaking of which…

***

“Enervate.�

Hermione stirred, opening her eyes. She felt stiff, and, for the first time in her life, slow and stupid; her brain wasn’t working properly. Where was she? Somewhere cold, lying on the hard, stone floor… “Huh?�

“Well, well… How’s the clever little Mudblood doing today?� a voice positively dripping with condescending scorn and malevolence drawled lazily.

She knew that voice—Malfoy! But she was only half-right: the speaker was Draco’s father.

Hermione scrambled clumsily to her feet and glowered at him with all her might, mind working furiously.

When she didn’t speak, Lucius continued, superbly disdainful: “I expect you’ll be staying with us a while, Mudblood. Make yourself at home.� He gestured elaborately around the bare, windowless room, mocking her.

“And where exactly are we, Malfoy?� she asked, in a voice of icy, forced calm. Hermione had never liked showing her ignorance, and doing so in front of Malfoy was just about killing her, but she didn’t think she had much chance of finding out much of anything otherwise.

“We are in a broom cupboard. I thought even you could work that out, Mudblood.� He smirked maliciously, and Hermione stared defiantly back, trying to mask her confusion and the fear now bubbling up unpleasantly in her stomach.

Malfoy laughed nastily, raising a derisive eyebrow. “I’ll leave you to it, Mudblood.� He turned on his heel and left, slamming the heavy wooden door and muttering a sealing spell as he went.

Hermione let out the breath she hadn’t known she was holding, and made a valiant attempt to stay calm and logical. She leaned her forehead against the cool stone wall, trying not to tremble, and took objective stock of her situation. As far as she could tell, she’d been kidnapped by
Death Eaters and was being held captive in the Malfoys’ broom closet. “Bloody hell,� she whispered.

Something fell with a clatter behind her, and Hermione jumped and whirled ‘round. A house-elf in a grubby potato sack stood in a puddle of soup before her, looking nothing short of terrified.

When it saw Hermione turn, the elf prostrated itself immediately on the floor, banging its head subtly against the stone. “Please forgive Lotty, Miss, she isn’t doing it again, she promises, Miss—�

“Er, it’s ok, really… You don’t have to do that; you can get up…� As this appeared to have no effect on the house-elf’s self-administered beating, Hermione seized the elf awkwardly around her middle and lifted her out of the puddle.

“Please, Miss! Lotty is sorry; Lotty won’t do it again, Miss,� the elf squeaked frantically.

Hermione set her down quickly, protesting, “I’m not going to hurt you! It’s all right, really, er, Lotty. It wasn’t your fault. Just, let’s get it mopped up, ok?�

The soup and broken crockery vanished instantly, and a new bowl appeared in Lotty’s small green hands. She placed it carefully on the floor before Hermione, muttered nervously that she’d be back at dinnertime, and left (with considerable difficulty, owing to the weight of the door).

Hermione frowned after her, brows knitted in thought. Well, Lotty’s presence seemed to tally with her conclusion that she was at the Malfoys’; only rich wizards from old families had house-elves, and knowing even as little as she did about the Malfoys, she could easily imagine that an elf of theirs would be just as filthy and frightened as Lotty was.

Hermione shivered suddenly. She was probably worse off than Lotty. She, too, was a captive. And she was Muggle born: the scum of the earth, as far as the Malfoys were concerned. She was also locked in a looless, windowless closet.

Hermione’s frown deepened. How had she gotten into the closet, anyway? She couldn’t remember anything past going to bed (presumably) the night before. Even the fact that she didn’t remember told her nothing: she could have had her memory modified, been stunned, put into an enchanted sleep, or just plain slept through her own kidnapping! She also didn’t know what had happened to her parents.

Hermione sat down, hard. She was finding it extremely difficult to think of anything that would have stopped Lucius Malfoy from having a fun little bout of Muggle torture once he’d secured Hermione. Everyone knew Voldemort was back now, after the incident in the Department of Mysteries, and they also knew which side Malfoy was on; the cat was out of the bag…

Crookshanks! Well, he was less likely to be hurt than her parents were—Crookshanks often went hunting at night, and he was only a cat, after all; Malfoy wasn’t likely to notice him…

Crookshanks wouldn’t have suffered as her parents had, even if he was caught…

Hermione couldn’t help it: a desperate sob escaped her lips. They couldn’t have, they wouldn’t have… Malfoy could have just modified her parents’ memories. Or put them under the Imperius Curse…

Oh, if they’d been killed..! The Dark Mark was probably hovering over what was left her house right now… The first real Mark in nearly sixteen years… Two deaths… Three, they would think…

Hermione was suddenly drowning in a flood of guilt. It was all her fault; she had to turn out to be a witch, to become friends with Harry… But how could she regret that? Hermione thought of all the time she’d spent with Harry and Ron. Even over the Christmas and summer holidays, she’d seen more of her best friends than of her parents…

Unable to keep her grief inside any longer, Hermione burst into loud, anguished sobs that wracked her whole body. Last Christmas, she had lied to them; said she was staying at Hogwarts to study for her OWLs, when really going to Grimmuald Place… She was never going to see them again… Or her home… Or probably anybody else she cared about… She was going to die here…

Hermione cried bitterly until she had neither tears nor voice left, then curled herself into an ball of misery and fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

***

Author’s End Note: Wow, I didn’t mean for this to get so… angsty… But I can’t picture Hermione reacting to this any other way, or drawing any different conclusions… Well, the next chapter will be much lighter, and Hermione will have Snape to cheer her up! ;-)