Authors Note: We're sorry to leave you all with such a big cliffy. We honestly didn't think it would cause such a stir. Never again! Well…you don't really expect us to promise that, do you?
Reviews are greatly appreciated, as always.
Disclaimer: We don't own Harry Potter and Co. or anything you might recognize in this story.
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Head is on
I want out
I'm alone and I'm an easy target
Metronome
I want out
I'm alone and I'm an easy target
-Foo Fighters, "Alone + Easy Target"
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Groggy still from the spell that had been cast upon her, Hermione lay face-up on a cobble stone floor in a daze. Blinking unsteadily in the seemingly fathomless darkness that surrounded her, she slowly managed to sit up on the cold ground. Though her witching skills were accurately impeccable, she had to thoroughly search her brain to figure out what spell Ron had cast upon her. It had all happened so quickly that her memory would only allow her to recall the flicker of a vivid red light. A dull headache confirmed her only suspicion: stupefy.
The air, wherever she was, was chilly and stale. After what seemed like an hour, she began to explore her surroundings. She soon discovered she was enclosed in a type of cell or chamber, and a rather small one by the feel of it. Running her hands through the bars of her makeshift prison, Hermione began to do what she did best: think. She had been in these types of situations before, with the Order of course, and had always somehow managed an escape from the enemy. But this instance was gravely different: she had no idea who or what had kidnapped her, no idea where she was, and no idea what her captive wanted with her. The only comforting thought she could muster was that if they had wanted her dead she would have been Avada Kedavra'd already. And Ron was involved too of course, but was it really Ron? Hermione knew he would never willingly betray his friends or family like this. His friends were his family. He would rather die first. But then Harry betrayed you taunted a little voice in the back of Hermione's head. Humph. Was it truly Ron? She couldn't be sure.
And then, of course, there was Harry. He had deceived her, hurt her in the worst possible way. Surely he wouldn't come waltzing in to save her any time soon. But then again, with his renown hero complex, she couldn't be sure of that either.
It seemed that she would indeed have to go through this ordeal on her own. There would most defiantly be no Harry or Ron to help her now.
"But how can I get myself out of this place when I can't even see my own hand in front of me?"
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Harry squinted at the bright morning sun as he walked up the flight of stairs that led to Hermione's flat. He had decided it best last night to not follow Hermione home from the Burrow. Scratch that. Tonks, Remus, Hagrid, the Weasleys, and just about every other guest at Harry's birthday party had decided it best that he not follow Hermione home.
After her heartbreaking departure from the Burrow, Harry had the full intention of perusing his girlfriend and setting things straight. Yet somehow, his friends had convinced him to leave her alone, at least for the night…
"You don't want to go barging after her, Harry" Tonks had told him, "Believe me. Just-"
"But she thinks I cheated on her!" he had interjected, "I can't let her continue to think that I-"
"Just one night Harry," she had continued, "Just give her one night. Tomorrow morning you can Apparate right at her doorstep if you want. You've just got to give her some time to calm down. What's the use of trying to talk to her when she's just going to try to hex you to New Guinea?"
"New Guinea?"
"Well, it's what I would do if my boyfriend cheat-"
"I didn't cheat on her!" he had yelled exasperatedly for what must have been the 112th time that night.
"Relax, Harry!" she had urged. "I know you would never…"
And so he had given her one night- and it had almost killed him. Just imagining what Hermione must have been going through, truly thinking he had betrayed her and done those awful things with Cho, was enough to drive any wizard mad. Unknowingly, Harry had gotten the same amount of sleep the previous night as Hermione herself.
Truth be told, he was secretly hurt by Hermione's accusations. How could she ever consider the fact that he would toss aside all of the love he had for her to mess around with Cho? It was inconceivable to him.
And in all honesty, he was nervous. Wizard aside, Harry Potter was still a man, and as such, grasped only vague idea of the female psyche. Sure, he was always better with an emotional Hermione than Ron, but that hardly seemed like an achievement now in adulthood. Ron was, well…Ron. He had, after all,"…the emotional range of a teaspoon," as Hermione herself had once so eloquently stated.
Okay, he knew she was obviously upset.
"Duh, Potter," he chided himself as he continued to ascend the staircase.
In his mind he was clearly wrongly charged. But he knew what she had seen. Well, he knew what she had thought she had seen at least. Yet he knew that was impossible. He hadn't done anything with Cho. He hadn't even gone near her the entire night.
Without realizing it, Harry reached the front door of Hermione's apartment. He looked up at the handsome mahogany door and sighed. He knocked on the door, not really knowing what to expect.
No answer sounded from within. He knocked again.
Silence.
"Hermione, please open the door," he said loudly, but careful not to shout and bring attention to himself. "I understand how you must be feeling, but we really need to talk."
Nothing.
Determinedly, he proceeded to rap on the door until the skin of his fist was flaming from pain. Hermione's Muggle neighbors began to peer out of their peepholes.
"I'm not leaving here until I speak with you," Harry said again, this time louder, although still in control of his voice.
He strained his ears, but still could not hear a sound from within the apartment. He didn't want to have to enter the flat by use of magic, but something seemed off. Just then, Harry suddenly felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He turned around, but saw only a brief flash of red. It was gone in an instant.
He ran his hand through his always messy hair. Half heartedly, Harry muttered "Alohomora." The door knob twisted and the hinges creaked as the door swung open.
At that moment he knew something was most definitely wrong, for the Protection Spell Hermione had on the home had been removed. The spell, aside from allowing only pre-approved wizards and witches from Apparating into the apartment, was also designed to repel all Alohomora Charms. You wouldn't want just any wizard or witch able to enter your home, after all.
Harry felt a pang of fear.
"Hermione, you there?"he nervously echoed into the house while stepping through the threshold. Silence was his only answer. He walked around the flat, noticing the haphazard condition of the kitchen and living room.
A cold kettle was on the stove.
A chair was lying, back down, on the floor.
A cup of tea, cold and more than halfway full, was sitting on the kitchen table.
Hermione was a very anal about the condition of her home: it was once in a blue moon that something was out of place or not stored in its proper compartment
"Hermione!" Harry called for the third time as he continued to search the apartment. As he neared her bedroom, he heard a faint scratching sound coming from inside. Wand at the ready, just in case, he carefully opened the door. Instantly, a large blur of orange zoomed out of the room and into the hall. "Crookshanks" Harry mumbled, easing up a bit as he entered the room.
It was there that he discovered the shards of glass and broken flowers strewn throughout the floor. The blankets and sheets of her bed were tangled and disheveled. Never in his life had he ever known Hermione to leave her bed unmade. Never.
He saw her wand lying on the dresser at the right of her bed. Wherever Hermione was, she was unarmed. Not good.
Crookshanks gave a loud meow and appeared in the doorway. He gazed intently at Harry and strolled out of the room.
Getting the hint, Harry followed the Ginger cat to the front door of the apartment.
"What is it Crookshanks?" Harry asked, not at all feeling stupid talking to the animal. He knew the cat was intelligent, and was probably trying to tell him something.
That's when he saw it: blood. There was blood on the carpet. It started near the overturned chair and ended at the doorway.
Terror and alarm pierced his heart almost as effectively as a blade. There was obviously a struggle…and Hermione had most likely not gotten the good end of it. And now she was gone.
Harry hurriedly dashed over to the fireplace. With a shaking hand, he threw a fistful of Floo Powder into the grate and shouted clearly, "The Burrow!"
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"Good morning Sunshine," an acidic voice laced with pure disdain called out of the infinite darkness.
The instant the vile words reached her ears, Hermione hoisted herself from the ground and stood rigid. The fatigue that had racked her body from lack of sleep and food leaked out of her body at the sign of the greeting, although Hermione could hardly call it that. The comment was dripping with sarcasm and revulsion. Her guard immediately went up and her awareness took over.
"I do hope you are enjoying your accommodations," the voice drawled bitterly "as they were especially created for you, Mudblood."
Though she would never admit it, a lump of fear began to rise in Hermione's throat. The voice was eerily familiar. She parted her lips for a characteristic witty reply to her captive, but failed to find her voice. Her mouth was dry from lack of water. Just how long had she been here? The darkness she was entombed in made it impossible to tell.
"What's the matter?" it called again, this time tainted in mockery. "Is the dirty Mudblood it afwaid of the dark?"
In an instant she knew. It was Sirius's murder, Voldemort's apprentice and most loyal follower: Bellatrix Lestrange. Oh how Hermione now easily identified the witch by the simple pitch and tone of her striking accent.
"I should have known it was you," Hermione spat, swallowing hard to rid the dryness in her mouth. "No other Death Eater would be stupid enough to try something like this."
"Your conceit astounds me, Mudblood," Bellatrix sneered, her voice perfectly steady. "You are in no position to insult your host. Lumos!"
A wand tip ignited a few feet in front of her, allowing Hermione a brief escape from the absolute darkness she was beginning to loathe. From what she could see, she realized that she was indeed imprisoned in a cell. The bars were made of thick steel and rose all the way to the low ceiling of the room. It reminded her of an old Muggle cell, the ones from old Wild West shows with sheriffs and gunfights at high noon. Bellatrix's sinister face was also visible, painted with a sick glee radiating from what Hermione surmised was the Death Eater's version of a smile.
"There. That's loads better," she said, eyeing Hermione intently. "Now I can see your pretty face. Although right now I must say you do look rather horrible," she finished in a sneer.
"What is your purpose with me Lestrange?" Hermione snapped irritably, eyes flashing warily in shadows of the wand light.
Bellatrix was unfazed by her outburst. "You mean to tell me that little Miss Perfect hasn't figured it out by now?" She was in am extremely good mood; the kidnap had gone off without a hitch, and all was proceeding according to plan. If she wasn't in such high spirits, she might have Crucio'd Hermione for her petulance.
"I have an idea," Hermione responded. Sitting alone in the darkness for hours can really get you thinking.
Bellatrix looked at her with interest. "Don't keep in such suspense, Mudblood."
"Harry," she said simply. "You target is Harry. So you Imperio'd Ron into kidnapping me in hopes that Harry would play the hero and try to rescue me."
The Death Eater raised a thin eyebrow. "Very good," she drawled.
"But there's a flaw in your scheme," Hermione continued.
"Is there?"
"He won't come bursting in here anytime soon," she said bitterly. "You've got the wrong girl. It's Cho Chang you want if you're trying to snag Harry." Her eyes tingled irritably as she fought to hold back tears. She would not show weakness in front of Bellatrix, and she was past crying over that man. Hours alone in a dark cell can really make you think.
A grim smirk curled onto Bellatrix's thin lips. "My, my, my. And I was led to believe you were a clever witch." She paused. "Inform the Daily Prophet!" she suddenly proclaimed. The green in her hazel eyes suddenly seemed more intense as they shined with malice. "For once in your pathetic life, you have the wrong answer."
"He won't come for me! He doesn't love me!" Hermione exploded. "He never did!" She laughed bitterly. "And I actually allowed myself to fall for him! I was blinded by Merlin knows what, and now I have to pay the consequences!" She was shaking from her emotional outburst. After a few seconds, she somewhat regained her composure. "Harry won't come," she said quietly. "Just wait and see."
Bellatrix was strangely quiet after Hermione's public epiphany. She stared at the trembling girl in front of her, mirth radiating from her eyes. The Mudblood was definitely in pain now, no doubt about that. But wouldn't another revelation add to her misery, and in affect add to Bellatrix's amusement? Her revenge? Yes, she decided. This opportunity was simply too tantalizing to pass up. A grim smirk curled onto her lips. "It wasn't Potter you saw in the Weasley's room, Mudblood."
Hermione's empty stomach gave a summersault. Still she stared at the Death Eater, giving her the best skeptical look she could muster .
"It was the magic of Polyjuice. Dolohov and I put on that delightful performance especially for you." She paused. "It was rather satisfying seeing you reaction. Or rather, hearing it, in the lavatory downstairs."
Hermione felt like she had been run over by a dozen rampaging Hippogriffs.
"You lie." But Hermione hadn't told anyone about the details of what she saw or even what had happened after. How else could she know? Still, she refused to believe it. That would mean that she unfairly condemned Harry, said all those horrible things to him unjustly, completely made an idiot out herself. And that she was wrong. Dead wrong.
Bellatrix broke the silence in the chamber with a notorious cackle. Hermione involuntarily shuddered at the woman's unearthly laughter.
"You fool!" she spat, laughing hysterically. "Stupid, filthy Mudblood! You think you've experienced pain? Pain from love?! You have not even begun to suffer my fury!" she said passionately. "The Dark Lord and his ways will prevail, Mudblood, and I will have my revenge!"
For the first time in her life, Hermione Jane Granger was dumbfounded.
Bellatrix narrowed her eyes triumphantly. "I'll leave you now, with those pleasant thoughts. Nox."
"By the way," Bellatrix's voice echoed once more through the emptiness of the chamber. "You were right about one thing: you will have to pay the consequences."
Once alone and back in complete darkness, Hermione found a brick wall and leaned against it for support. She quickly allowed herself to slide down in misery. But she would not allow the tears to fall.
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