The End Is The Beginning Is The End

Hermione wasn’t going to pretend to be brave. 

This Malfoy—whoever he was—was clearly a pychotic family member that lay hiding in the closets because she had thought the Malfoy family consisted of three people only.

And here she was looking like…well, like trash.  She shuddered to think of the layers of filth caking her body and the amount of time it would take to rid herself of it.

After releasing her, he took up a position on the opposite side of the room.  He leaned against the wall, crossed his arms, and fixed a level stare on her.

Even when she was this overpowered, she still managed to give him her best disdainful look. 

But for how long could she actually maintain such a strong image?

Malfoy did not move.  He hardly blinked.  And she was on the ground, unable to rise.  She was bound to a chair, and like it or not it was a position that quickly became uncomfortable.  It hurt her neck to crane it for so long, and soon she found herself simply lying there.

Every now and then she would let her gaze return to his, and always she would hold that icy stare for several minutes to show him that she was not afraid.  But the amount of time she held the stare grew less and less, until it trickled into a few seconds.

Now, she was struggling to simply remain awake.

Had she ever been this tired?  Think, Hermione, of something.  Stay awake.  Sing a song, do something.

But she kept nodding off…

Again…

And again…

‘Crucio!’

She was jolted back into reality.  She screamed, as white-hot pain tore through her.  Her body began to seize but she was unaware of nothing but the pain.  Her mind would burst. 

And just as suddenlt as it started, it ended.

She was dry heaving, and Malfoy watched her the way one might study something beneath a microscope.  His lips were turned up in a barely perceptible smile.

‘Information, and this can all end.’

And by end I am sure you mean death.

She wasn’t stupid.  At least she knew not to tell him what she knew, because the moment she did her value ended.

Minutes—or hours—passed—who knew.  There were no windows to indicate time, and the room was lit by a light source not visible from where she lay.

Just when the pain receeded, he did it again.

‘Crucio!’

She shrieked.  She screamed.  She began to utter the names of potions ingredients.  Anything to keep in touch with reality.

This continued for what seemed like forever.  Who knew?  At some point Hermione Granger slipped into unconsciousness

Lucius watched her still body.

He was exhausted, despite all appearances otherwise.  It took effort to properly torture someone, and the girl required a certain level of skill.  It was delicate, this game he played.  Push to much, and he broke her.  Push to little, and all he did was waste his time.

Exciting, without a doubt, but when she remained so stubborn he found himself wanting to hury up the process.

He studied the girl.  What could he do to peel away the layers?  She had qualities that ill-became a mudblood, and a female one at that. 

What to do…

A smile, not a nice one, split his face.

Oh yes.

He knew precisely what to do with her.

And he was certain that before it finished the little bitch would be spilling her secrets.

He raised his hand, revealing two long, elegantly shaped fingers and shapped them together. 

In an instant his house house elf appeared—Nim. 

She was anxiously hopping from foot to foot, and he narrowed his eyes, taking in her distasteful dirty clothes.  But unfortunately, if he gave her clothes she would be free.

‘Clean the girl.  I want her sparkling.  And dress her in something pretty.’  He ran a hand through his hair, ‘I want her ready by nightfall.  You are to keep her restrained at all times.’

Lucius turned his back on the pair. 

Deeper into the darkness…